Days of our Wings
by Uakari
Summary: The delightfully preposterous, obnoxiously obtuse, and egregiously angsty saga of three travelers set forth from Clow.  Set post-series; spoiler and hyperbole laden.  Please don't try this at home.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapitre 1: The Beginning of the Guilt_

_Mutual taste in décor unknow, a single headboard declares the beginning of everything…_

Early morning light spilled through the open windows, soaking the remnants of the chilly night air with its warmth. Syaoran rolled onto his side, pulling the sheet more snugly around his shoulders and tactfully ignoring the horribly cliche opening sentence. He noted sleepily that he was alone in the bed, and happily redoubled his efforts to take up as much of the mattress as his lanky frame would allow. He exhaled into the pillow and allowed his eyes to flutter open briefly, slowly adjusting to the new light.

_Eyes._

He blinked.

_Pink._

Confused, he lazily rubbed a fist against his eyelid and refocused.

The cold eyes of the beast glared back - calculating, hard, unmoving.

With a snap of his hand, the sheet split around his body. Darting between the falling scraps, he rolled onto the balls of his feet. A quick burst of flame from his hand and his sword was drawn, a bitter battle cry on his lips. A loud _CRACK _proclaimed his victory as the head of the beast split in two.

Syaoran stepped back to survey the carnage, not daring to move his sword from an offensive position.

_Fuck._

Sakura was going to kill him.

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

While most people regard Sanrio's feline spokesmodel fondly as a token of all things cute and girly, few recognize the sinister plot behind the aggressive, multidimensional marketing of the character. Originally conceived by Ikuko Shimizu as a cutesy graphic for a coin purse, Hello Kitty likenesses had been spread across time and space by the evil Sanrio MegaCorp in a _terribly _misguided effort to transmute the brains of girls ages 6-18 into something resembling molten marshmallow and thereby take over the world. When this plot inevitably failed, they had settled for ensuring Syaoran never got laid again.

At least, this is the belief he clung desperately to. In reality, he suspected this outcome had more to do with his blond traveling companion's attraction to all things cat-like (doubly so if they also sparkled) and their inability to carry more than the bare necessities with them between worlds. Souvenirs were sent to Watankuni, then spit back out by Mokona when the travelers briefly returned "home." Syaoran gritted his teeth as he eyed the crystal sun-catcher that had spawned the ungodly collection glistening innocently in the window. Sakura had been so pleased with the gift that the group had proceeded to purchase every pink, mouthlessly-smirking, cat-marked bit of paraphernalia they encountered. A shadow and a doubt had begun growing in Syaoran's mind during the procurement of the Hello Kitty portable body-fat meter as to whether these purchases were getting out of hand. The handcuffs had intrigued him, though this effect was somewhat diminished by the two pairs of white plush paws they currently held together. The pink and white assault rifle currently holding up the bedside table was completely unnecessary in his mind. But it was the headboard that he was never going to forgive Fay for.

Years of inter-dimensional traveling with no female companionship to speak of had taken its toll on the young man's libido. Those occasional nights spent in Clow Country, which should have been spent indulging in every conceivable sin of the flesh, became complicated by the slow smothering of any confidence the youth once possessed beneath the heaving pile of Sakura's ever-growing Yaoi manga collection (he also suspected Fay's interference in this, but had never been able to catch the mage actually _buying _the damned things). The addition of two great, cold eyes staring back at him from the pink headboard did not improve his performance, as Sakura had informed him (quite coldly) that "I can't with the cat watching" was only a valid excuse in the presence of an actual, living, breathing cat.

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Red eyes surveyed the scene from a spit in the door curtain. They noted with some amusement that the young man in front of him still slept with his fuzzy Batsumaru slippers tucked under his pillow, but it was really the immaculate tighty whities that completed the Portrait of the Young Man Posturing Victoriously Over the Vanquished Pink Headboard. Against his better judgment, he snickered. This was out of character, so he quickly transformed the snicker into a growl and threw back the curtains.

Syaoran slumped into the mattress as Kurogane entered the room. The ninja had been woken out of a dead sleep by the noise; this much was obvious to the youth as he noted the frilly blue bathrobe barely covering the ninja's torso and the spectacular state of his hair. He sighed.

"I think this one might cost you," Kurogane grunted, eyeing up the splintered pink wood and the indisputable look of agony ensconced in the cat's shattered face. "Technique's not bad for being half awake though," he murmured, running his hand along crack. Syaoran curled into the fetal position and murmured something about "inevitability."

This received a snort from Kurogane, who slapped his hand onto the boy's shoulder and shook him in a manly sort of way. "I think we can fix this…"

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Three hours, 16 rolls of duct tape, 7 bottles of nail polish, and an infinite number of prayers to any available deities later, the headboard had been reconstructed to look almost, but not quite exactly unlike the feline monstrosity that had once stood in its place. In retrospect, Kurogane had to admit that the addition of red eyes and a flaming halo had failed to imbue the bed with the "sexy" vibe he had been angling for. But then, interior design had never been his strong suit.

The men held each other's gaze, the word "seppuku" flitting briefly between them. They had at most an hour before the princess and the mage returned from their daily foray into the market; at worst the two had already returned and were heading upstairs to be visually assaulted by the sight of their scantily clad companions draped over a sweat-stained mattress, staring slack-jawed at the Feline Harbinger of Doom.

Luck, it shortly occured to the men, was not playing for their team on this particular day. Footsteps in the hallway announced the arrival of their companions, and the two men braced themselves for the coming battle.

Fay's head peaked into the room first, eyes growing wide at the destruction. Kurogane could have sworn he saw a faint smile tug at the corners of the mage's mouth, but quickly wrote this off as fear-induced delirium - he had suffered the wrath of the wizard enough times to know when he had crossed the line. Only death could possibly await after this transgression...

There was a muffled commotion in the hallway followed by the sound of footsteps heading away from the room. Fay momentarily reappeared in the doorway, Mokona perched on his shoulder. Crossing his arms, the magician smirked.

"I always assumed father-son bonding time included more clothing and less nail polish."

"I thought the addition of duct tape made up for the discrepancy quite nicely," Kurogane countered, visibly relaxing. "What the _hell_ are we supposed to do with this?" he groaned, getting to his feet.

"Well, I suppose we could burn it," Fay murmured, eyes sparkling wildly, "but I also don't put it past her to notice the pile of ashes."

Kurogane growled and absentmindedly peeled a strip of duct tape from his abdomen. Fay only raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Syaoran, go get washed and dressed. Kuro-tan, help me get this mess fixed."

Kurogane weighed this proposition in his mind. It wasn't, strictly speaking, _his_ fault that the headboard had been split. However, he supposed the subsequent restyling of the pastel monstrosity into the carefully crafted nightmare that currently stood before them had been largely, if misguidedly, engineered by himself. "Fine," he grunted.

"That took less time than I had imagined," Fay confided once Syaoran had left the room.

Kurogane narrowed his eyes. "Explain," he demanded.

"Well, the boy has to learn to stand up for himself in this relationship some time," Fay sang as Mokona sucked the macabre bed frame into its mouth. "He can't be happy being completely pussy-whipped like this, no matter how much the princess enjoys it."

His brow furrowing, Kurogane spun toward Fay. "_YOU _bought this. _YOU _buy all of the unholy cat toys. _YOU _send out purchase-orders for the Porn-Illustrated Magazines. This is _YOUR _doing. They're nearly…" he paused, counting his fingers, then running out and scanning his toes quickly. "They're old enough to figure this out on their own, dammit!"

Fay smiled. "A mother is never finished teaching valuable life-lessons to his children." He braced himself as a pristine version of the bastardized bed spewed out of Mokona's mouth, shuddering to a halt in the exact space the previous bed had once occupied. "What would you prefer I do, hire a one-armed man to teach them lessons? Exactly how much is Kuro-sensei charging these days?"

Kurogane gritted his teeth and looked away. This game had grown old sometime in Rekort, but the mage seemed intent on playing it until the five of them had shriveled to corpses. He grunted, as this seemed the reply most appropriate to upholding his manly veneer.

"You could help you know. Set an example. Be a role model. And get some clothes on," Fay scolded, " We're leaving as soon as Syaoran is back from the bath, and, spectacular though it may be, I'm not certain how many people you're willing to expose to the current interaction of your loin cloth, butt cheeks, and the lace from that robe…"


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapitre 2: The Price of Souchu_

_No matter how close –_

_No matter how distant –_

_I'll yearn for your memories, as I drank away my own…_

Rain splashed down over the pagoda-roofed house. Kurogane winced as the cold drops fell onto his head, and gave silent thanks for the extra-strength pomade he had acquired several worlds back. Just as silently, he cursed himself for his momentary inattention to his stance as he crashed ass over teakettle into the slick grass. He had to hand it to the wizard, however – it would have been much worse if he were still wearing the frilly bathrobe.

A slender hand wrapped itself under his shoulder a moment later and pulled him to his feet. Fay smiled under his bright yellow rain bonnet (thoughtfully matched to the bright yellow rain jacket and bright yellow galoshes) as he proceeded to drag the ninja into the house. Kurogane grimaced; the damned mage had either known this would be the next world on their tour or had conspired with the manjuu to bring them here…

Syaoran slunk into the house, defeated by the day's earlier exertions and doubting his manhood. He hadn't even had time to say "goodbye" to Sakura before Mokona had sucked him in. The fact that he was only wearing a bath towel certainly wasn't helping.

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Watanuki's eyes blazed up angrily over his copy of _Fushigi Yuugi_. He desperately needed a "Me" day, and had left violently graphic instructions to Maru and Moro to spare him from disturbances. Still, the unmistakable sound of the door drew his attention to the front hall.

He sighed and absentmindedly readjusted his kimono to hide the denim fringe poking out around his thighs. He really hadn't been expecting company today.

A foursome of drowned, rat-like beings emerged from the sliding doorway in front of his sofa in short order. A second sigh escaped his lips. He really _really_ hadn't been expecting these four today, though he supposed he should have been after the frantic plea for the damned Hello Kitty bed earlier.

At least that was one more pink monstrosity gone from his warehouse.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, carefully neglecting to stand to greet the intruders. "So _wonderful _to see you all again!" He languidly draped an arm over the ornate backboard of the sofa. "Mokona, won't you see that rooms are prepared for our guests?"

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Fay was happy. Without a regular need to concoct potions (or at least anything more complicated than Pepto Bismol and the occasional soluble asprin), the kitchen was his domain, and Watanuki was only too happy to bequeath the title of "food-service-bitch" to him.

Dinner was going to be magnificent.

With the two hobs of the stove happily burning away – one boiling sauer kraut, the other rice – Fay set about preparing his masterpiece. Almond crusted taro root with an apple-seaweed reduction sauce, coupled with a generous helping of beet barszcz.

_Dinner was going to be magnificent._

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Kurogane was happy. There were few people the group encountered that he felt understood "honor," "loyalty," and "manliness" in the same manner as himself.

Doumeki was the rare exception.

The two faced one another, steeled expressions fastened to their faces.

Kurogane grunted.

Doumeki scowled.

A "2" was exchanged between the pair.

Kurogane grunted again.

"Go fish," came the reply.

_Doumeki was the rare exception._

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

Syaoran was happy. For the first time in weeks he was curled up alone on a futon – no thrashing bed partner to disturb his sleep, no performance anxiety over the guard he knew was generally stationed just outside the door. No guard stationed outside the door for that matter.

The sounds of fervently fornicating Mokonas were not going to disrupt his sleep.

He rolled onto his side; happy for once that he did not need to stretch his arms and legs to extremes in order to claim the entirety of the futon. He breathed deeply into his pillow.

_The sounds of fervently fornicating Mokonas were not going to disrupt his sleep._

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

Watanuki was unhappy. For the first time in months Doumeki seemed more interested in an activity other than berating him for his alcohol and tobacco habits. This secret language of shifty eyes and guttural rumblings had rendered him an outsider in his own home.

The ninja was going to pay.

He could pay in blood, sweat, tears, even mayonnaise for all Watanuki cared. But he _would _pay. Slowly, he meandered into the kitchen.

Luckily, dinner was going to be magnificent.

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

Watanuki had bet on a stronger reaction to the wasabi-marmite sauce he had so delicately added to the taro root during dinner. He had not, however, bet on the magician's complete intolerance of the souchu he had provided for refreshment. As such, the dinner had been devoured without incident, while the closets had been completely ravaged and the few stay scraps of paper on the floor torn to shreds as the blond proceeded to "meow," "purrrrr," and "scritch" his way into every corner of the room.

_Well, if he wasn't able to annoy the ninja by ruining his dinner, there were apparently several other routes to take._

Kurogane grunted.

Doumeki scowled.

Watanuki readjusted his obi to cover the brass button above his waist.

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

Kurogane awoke the next morning alone; the Feline Harbinger of Doom smiling down upon him.

This was not a good omen.

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

Fay had woken up early and, in deference to his partner's usual morning moods, had slipped silently out of bed. He remembered neither how he had gotten to bed, nor why the hideously haloed cat had been brought out of storage to haunt him...but the bruises spotting his arms spoke volumes. As did the faint buzzing in his head, for that matter. His splintered fingernails were a bit of a mystery, though. He must have put up quite a struggle against going to bed last night, and it was obvious that his dark-haired companion had resorted to his preferred method of extreme violence to subdue him. Fay shook his head slowly. That hadn't been _quite _the example he had been hoping the ninja would set. Sighing, he proceeded to dress and make his way into the kitchen.

Watanuki had arrived slightly before him and was setting out ingredients for this morning's breakfast.

Fay grimaced, remembering the argument that had dominated their last visit. It had started as a simple matter of flour to baking powder ratios; or rather, Watanuki had refused to acknowledge that such a ratio existed. Fay, however, had been quite insistent that baking powder was a necessary component of pancakes. Watanuki had not relented, insisting that proper pancakes had only egg, flour, and vegetables, and the resulting blows, bites, and hair-pullings were silently but achingly gnawing at Fay's mind. He was in enough pain as it was.

With a sigh of relief he noted that baking powder had been left on the center island. Watanuki, still seething from the night before, had decided to choose his battles more carefully from now on and had decided that a peace-offering in the form of levening agent _really _wasn't all that unreasonable.

Watanuki was quickly shuffled out of the kitchen, Fay muttering about "Mimosas, Buck's Fizz, or something of the sort" as he hurried the other into the cellar.

Chocolate chips. Almond slivers. Brown sugar. White sugar. Beets.

He wondered vaguely how much sugar he could talk Kurogane into eating this morning. His shoulder throbbed painfully in reply.

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

Syaoran mindfully rolled his futon, having piled the blankets and pillow into a careful stack just moments before. They all fit neatly into the cabinet, leaving him with a calm sense of well-being.

The smell of breakfast from the front rooms was _divine_.

Following his nose, he drifted out of the room that had been made up for him the day before. Breakfast looked as divine as it had smelled; after years of repeated exposure to Fay's breakfasts of sugar-loaded extravagance, this was _home_.

Mindlessly tucking into a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, he paused only briefly to study the face of his desperately unhappy comrade.

Kurogane was uncertain of what to make of the bowl of fuschia-colored death presented as sustenance. It didn't smell poisonous, but it also had an unmistakable coldness to it, as if it had been set in a freezer before serving. He lifted a questioning eyebrow to the mage as he sniffed at a spoonful.

"Kuro-sama hates sweet things for breakfast!" Fay exclaimed, ladling an extra splash into the bowl.

"So what the hell _is_ this?" Kurogane demanded, sniffing the mixture tentatively.

"Borscht!" Fay replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"Of course…" Kurogane remarked, the word conjuring up a rather smutty image in his mind despite its foul appearance. He wondered where the hell the wizard's current obsession with beets was coming from. He frowned as an entire bottle of mayonnaise was emptied over the surface of the slop; this had to be a punishment – probably for the previous night's scuffle over the magician's attempt to use one of Watanuki's prized houseplants as a littler box. He felt more confident in this assessment as he observed Watanuki slopping a ladleful into a less-than-happy looking Doumeki's bowl. _Doumeki _had been the one to insist that Bad Kitties should be locked in the bathroom. Kurogane had simply noted that it was more effective to pick the wizard up by his arms and toss him than to try to lift him by the scruff of his neck...

It really had been a shame that neither of them had accounted for the desperate flailing of the magician's legs and the deadly accuracy with which they shattered several priceless vases.

Breakfast was consumed wordlessly, give or take a few grunts and scowls answered with bottles of soy sauce and pepper shakers. Today was not shaping up to be a good day.

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

"Kuro-sama worries too much," Fay teased, deftly removing the bowls from the table and scurrying off toward the sink. "If I were mad at you, I would have made nothing but glazed donuts for breakfast."

Kurogane wasn't convinced, however, and blocked the entrance to the kitchen.

"If you were happy with me, you wouldn't have made cold pink slop for breakfast."

"Valerian specialty," Fay sneered, ducking under Kurogane's arm. "I thought the color was nicely reminiscent of all the blood vessels you popped while man-handling me last night." He slammed a spoon into the sink. "If I wanted to live with this level of domestic violence I could have stayed in Celes."

"And if I wanted to pick shit out of a houseplant, I could buy an actual cat."

"And god help the cat when Kuro-sama gets lonely at night."

"You sick jackass..."

"Oh save your breath, you'll need it to blow up your date later."

"Bastard!"

"Impudent man-child!"

"Sex pixie!"

"Sick-o!"

Fay was not terribly surprised when he landed with a THUD in the garbage can moments later.

* 11 * 11 * 11 * 11 *

Syaoran was worried.

Throughout his years of travel with the two, he had never witnessed a fight quite as quiet or passive-aggressive between Fay and Kurogane. Boisterous disagreements, yes. Screaming matches, yes. Shrill pleas for mercy, _definitely_. But angry eyes and shifty avoidance between rooms coupled with short bursts of indignation was a new and terrifying phenomenon. It reminded him entirely too much of home...

The final straw fell as he tried to focus on a poorly thought-out TV drama.

_"If you want someone to swallow, why don't you just get Mokona to…"_

Strategic grinding of his teeth blocked out the rest of the sentiment. As well as the identity of the speaker. Necessity was, after all, the mother of all selective hearing.

Regardless, it was time to get out.

Fay seemed perfectly happy in the house. Kurogane, he knew from experience, would probably enjoy a night out. Syaoran crossed his fingers (and his toes for good measure) and hoped the time apart would help ease whatever tension was currently causing his two best friends to act like 12 year old school girls. That, and a stiff drink was _definitely _in order.

* 12 * 12 * 12 * 12 *

Kurogane had never been to a hostess bar before, and wondered vaguely why Doumeki had been so insistent that they come here. He _knew _a smexy CLAMP pairing when he saw one, and it slowly dawned on him that this may have been some sort of revenge for the morning's borscht fiasco. He rolled his eyes and gulped his sake, eyes darting suspiciously around the room. He hadn't seen cleavage this heaving since he had accidentally walked in on Amaterasu and Souma on his sixteenth birthday.

Syaoran had long since moved on from sake to whiskey. Kurogane seemed ill at ease, which worried him. He suggested they join the table next to them for some good old fashioned gambling.

Doumeki scowled.

Kurogane grunted.

"Even."

"Odd."

"Big."

"I don't think this is legal anymore."

"I don't think anyone cares."

"Fine."

"Nope, that's definitely small."

"The fuck it is!"

"I'll show you small!"

"Oh. Yes. That is definitely small."

* 13 * 13 * 13 * 13 *

Syaoran missed his futon. The rough, unforgiving brown carpet was really no substitute for a warm, inviting , fluffy mattress. The sweatpants were largely an inconvenience at this point, though he would have happily traded them for the towel he had arrived in this world wearing.

Kurogane was pissed off. That miserable fuck had cheated him out of a drink, possibly an entire round. The considered hurling himself at the bars in front of him, but paused, remembering the current bloodied state of his face. He shifted his attention back to how he was going to find that miserable fuck and kill him.

Doumeki was happy that he, for once, was not alone. The rough, unforgiving brown carpet and sweatpants were just props at this point in his penal education. He listened for their names amongst the guards' recitation. He would have them out of here in hours, possibly singular, flat. It was so easy feign innocence when no CCTV was present. Especially when none of his comrades looked European…

* 14 * 14 * 14 * 14 *

"Kuro-sama always drinks too much," Fay chided, lifting an ice-pack to Kurogane's swollen eye. He had waited until early evening to pick the threesome up from the precinct, preferring to let them sleep off their hangover behind bars. He seemed to have badly miscalcuated the amount of time needed for this, however, as the ninja's current body odor indicated he was sweating pure sake.

"Ffff-sama always talks too much," Kurogane countered, wincing at the cold weight the ice-pack introduced to his face.

"Ffff-sama wouldn't have to if Kuro-sama didn't get arrested. You're lucky they dropped the indecent exposure charge – that would have been a difficult one to slur your way out of."

"Ffff-you."

"Only when you're not a stinking drunk-ass."

"Ffff…"

"Shhh now," Fay insisted, draping a blanket over Kurogane's shoulders and laying a quick peck on his forehead, "And I'll consider us even for the bruises."

* 15 * 15 * 15 * 15 *

Watanuki happily pasted his newest mug-shot of Doumeki into his scrap book, his misdirected anger at the ninja slowly fading into maniacal glee at having once again successfully landed the university student in the slammer for a night without exceeding the interference threshold (a favorite pastime). Though, to be perfectly fair, this particular instance had been almost entirely accidental. He had only meant to ruin the ninja's dinner; events after that had quickly spiraled out of control through no device of his own. He shook his head, wondering briefly just _how_ many cocktails one required to concoct a plot _that_ random. He pushed the thought away – he was going to need his liver for a good long time; there was no sense in ruining it all in one go.

He picked a stray bit of denim fluff out of his belly button and frowned – he was running low on jeans, but apparently it was time to get out the old shears again.

Not that there was any shame in it.

* 16 * 16 * 16 * 16 *

Syaoran was happy. For the second time in weeks he was curled up alone on a futon – no shady looking detainees leering at him to disturb his sleep, no anxiety over the guard he knew was stationed beyond the bars. No guard at all for that matter.

The sounds of fervently fornicating Mokonas were not going to disrupt his sleep.

He rolled onto his side; happy that he did not need to stretch his arms and legs to extremes in order to claim the entirety of the futon. He smiled manically into his pillow.

_The sounds of fervently fornicating Mokonas were not going to disrupt his sleep._

**_A/N: The cut-offs do not belong to me. There are purely the intellectual property/genius of the dudes/chicklets who wrote Arrested Development..._**


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapitre 3: The Necessary Angst_

_Aniexty and drama, since that day, have remained deep within. I've dreamt of my missing appendages, since that day…_

Their current world was a welcome respite from the previous onslaught of familiar faces the travelers had endured. In addition, work was plentiful and, after a few nights spent camping on park benches, the three had secured a room above a karaoke bar. The owner had been particularly enthusiastic about renting to them, as he was gaining a bartender and bouncer in the transaction. This would leave Syaoran free to continue his research unconstrained by financial worries while ensuring that Kurogane had plenty of opportunities to indulge in petty violence and allowing Fay to sing show tunes - off-key and in public - to his heart's content.

The one downside of this world affected only the most diminutive member of the group. An unfortunate accident some years earlier involving a cloning tank, a white rabbit, and a fairly sizeable amount of gin had resulted in a quickly-evolving lagomorph infestation. The legion of cloned rabbits, true to their original nature, had reproduced wildly; quickly forcing other wildlife out of their niches, and inserting themselves into various roles in the local ecosystem. Surprisingly, this had worked to the locals' advantage – even the enormous Cattlebits produced amazingly large litters and spawned curiously fast generations. Famine was unheard of, though live-stock castration had become something of a sacrament. Naturally, pest-control had also become a lucrative career option – the sewer-dwelling Ratbit and arboreal Squirbit populations proved much more difficult to control than their predecessors.

Despite the citizen's tolerance of and resulting dependence on the Rabbiforms, however, the appearance of a talking, dancing rabbity-thing with a voracious appetite and no tolerance for alcohol was worrisome. While the current population was manageable, many locals secretly feared they, too, would be going the way of the wild deer (and squirrels, and rats, and geese, and cows, etc.). It was decided, therefore, that Mokona would stay indoors, only venturing outside under the most dire of circumstances and then hidden in one of their clothes.

Mokona and the others, however, had differing definitions of "most dire," and after several attempts by the former to sneak out buried in Kurogane's underwear, an agreement was reached. In exchange for staying indoors, Mokona would be allowed a bottle of strong alcohol at the end of each week and the long-standing limit on communication with Watanuki was relaxed.

So it was that Fay and Kurogane returned to their room early Saturday morning to find Syaoran asleep on the sofa with several pillows over his head and socks crammed into his ears while a _very _drunk Mokona chattered incessantly to a rather uncomfortable-looking, half-naked Watanuki hologram. This in and of itself wouldn't have been out of the ordinary, were it not for the lacy violet bra currently supporting the manjuu's ears.

Kurogane closed his eyes. He didn't want to know. Of this much, he was certain.

Fay spied the playing cards on the floor as the communication abruptly ended, a final squeak audible from Watanuki as the light dulled. "Strip poker?"

"Mokona is very good at strip poker!" it squealed, indicating the pile of clothing its opponent had been forced to forfeit. Kurogane growled.

"Yes, I see!" Fay exclaimed, "How about sending that back to him now though, those kinds of clothes don't really fit in here and we don't need the-" His last word was cut off by a sharp intake of air as he pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing.

"You okay?" Kurogane asked, eyeing the wizard with concern. It wasn't like him to get headaches.

"Yeah, just my eyes…" Fay trailed off. "Damn..."

"Probably just readjusting to the light," Kurogane grunted. "You wouldn't believe how small your pupils are right now," he added with a note of amusement.

"You're right," Fay murmured, using a hand to shade his aching eyes. He supposed an entire night spent in a dark bar followed by sudden exposure to the excessively bright morning sunlight of this world _would _wreak havoc on his long-suffering eyes. And last night had been more punishing than most; a twelve hour shift pulling pints while tone-deaf twenty-somethings alternated between crooning Gloria Gaynor and slurring "Piano Man" was likely accounting for some of the tension in his head. "Let's get a couple of hours of sleep – we have to shop for groceries before tonight's shift."

Kurogane agreed, pausing only momentarily to wonder aloud "What the hell is with that kid and the cut-offs?"

The ninja had no luck silencing the gale of laughter and squeaks of "There are dozens of them!" that abruptly emanated from Mokona.

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

It was sometime after noon when Fay awoke to the sound of the shower. His body felt like lead, despite a considerable amount of sleep. His eyes were _still _killing him. He groaned as he forced himself out of bed and stumbled to the dresser.

He was still dressing, slowly, sullenly, when Kurogane came back into the room and made a playful swipe at him with his bath towel.

"Nggh," the wizard grumbled. "Fuck off."

Kurogane frowned. He wondered briefly if this was a hangover, but then remembered that Fay refused to drink while he was working. "Sorry," he muttered, grabbing a clean pair of socks.

"S'okay," came the slightly muted reply. "I don't think I can cook tonight. Let's get dinner before shopping."

"Sure…" Kurogane trailed off, now concerned. He hoped it wasn't the Swibit flu. He had heard that strain was _particularly _nasty; though he had yet to actually meet anyone who'd caught it.

They picked a quiet café in the market for dinner; Kurogane ordered a huge Cattlebit steak while Fay fussed silently over a garden salad.

"How can you stand to eat flesh?" Fay demanded, stabbing violently at a tomato.

"…the hell?" Kurogane felt his eyes narrow. This was a worrying avenue of conversation from someone who'd survived by drinking his blood for a period.

"You've ended a life to satisfy your own bloodlust," Fay shook his head, eyes welling up with tears.

"This is not a convincing argument coming from a man who once stood down an angry mob of PETA protesters shouting about how he would gladly suck bacon through a straw if they knocked his teeth out."

"A man…" Fay shook his head slowly, stealthily skewering a large chunk of Kurogane's steak with his knife and popping it in his mouth. The sweet juices ran down his throat as he squeezed the morsel between his teeth and he lost himself in the momentary rush of blood to his face. Pupils contracted. Then he remembered the poor, fluffy bunny alone in its pen and tried to resist gagging on the steak as it slid down his throat. _No, not a man, a beast_, he mused, pushing his plate away and signaling for the waitress. "A large fudge sundae, please," he ordered when she arrived.

"You do realize that's made from the milk of poor, exploited animals," Kurogane grunted, more than slightly annoyed at his companion's behavior.

"Fuck you, I need chocolate."

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

The supermarket offered an entirely novel definition of hell for Kurogane, who was presently attempting to pry the wizard away from a display of chocolate covered animal crackers. Fay was sobbing loudly, deeply conflicted by his wavering ethical concerns over animal-shaped foodstuffs and his craven lust for chocolate. He seemed completely unaware that his inner-monologue was being broadcast at a rather impressive volume by his lips.

Kurogane decided it was best for his sanity if he left the wizard to his own devices and gathered the items on the list as quickly as he could. He threw in more than a few extra chocolate covered goodies – just in case this little episode was going to continue. And a bottle of chocolate syrup. Just for good measure, mind you. He found Fay doubled over in the freezer section, keening softly to himself about lost love and betrayal while petting a bag of frozen carrots. He huffed as he tossed the frozen package into the cart, helped Fay to his feet and dragged him toward the checkout line. If this was Swibit flu, he really hoped the kid wouldn't catch it as well.

The lines were long with last-minute shoppers. Kurogane tried in vain to find the shortest, and eventually settled for the one closest to the door. He eyed the clock on the wall.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

Fifteen.

"Kurogane."

The ninja turned his head sharply, feeling an inexplicable urge to kill rising in his throat. "_What?_"

"Go."

"What? Are you out of your mind?"

"Go. Leave me. I'll pay and meet you at home."

"I think I'll stay." He didn't trust the wizard alone in public in this state. Who knew what his flu-addled brain was capable of?

"If you try to argue with me, this will turn into a fight." Fay's eyes flashed wildly, pupils narrowing to small slits.

Kurogane had had enough. Flu be damned, the idiot mage could find his own way home. They really didn't have the money to cover the amount of property damage he felt he was seconds away from inflicting.

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

"You just _left_ him there?" Syaoran nearly shrieked as Kurogane filled a tall glass with gin and splashed the surface with a few drops of orange juice.

"Damned right I did! Swibit flu or not, the idiot was crying to a pile of crackers!" He drank deeply from the cup and slammed it down onto the table. "And then it was all '_oooh, go home Kurogane…leave me here in my misery…wah wah wah!'_"

Syaoron shifted uncomfortably. "He called you 'Kurogane'?"

The ninja replayed the scene in his mind. "Yeah…" He suddenly felt ill.

Syaoron shuddered. "You don't think…"

"Oh _SHIT_."

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

Fay returned home half an hour later to find Syaoran and Mokona barricaded behind the sofa and coffee table. His beloved ninja was nowhere in sight. He sighed painfully; such a _monster _was he that even his dearest friends felt sullied by his presence. He didn't deserve to live. He silently cursed his existence while unloading the groceries and carefully turning all of the labels to face the front of the cupboard.

Syaoran, disturbed by the abrupt shift in tone the author had taken, braced himself. It had been almost a year since the last "incident." At least this time they were far away from any sort of sparkly vampire movies... AMS took quite a toll on the magician's traveling companions.

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

Kurogane cursed himself. How could he have missed the signs? The small pupils and heavily lidded eyes. The eye cramps stemming therefrom. The violent mood swings. The goddamned _chocolate_. The mage's AMS would be the death of him.

Angst Muffin Syndrome (AMS), as defined by psychiatric societies in several dimensions, appeared to be an incurable, recurring side effect of exposure to vampire blood. Cycles varied in length from patient to patient, but in Fay's case seemed to be averaging roughly nine months. Though the condition was acknowledged in multiple dimensions, the leading treatment options were presently limited to suggestions of "Wait for it to pass," "Take two Midol and call me in the morning," and "Run." Kurogane could only surmise that the latter "treatment" was intended for the people nearest to the patient, as his previous suggestion of participating in a marathon had only produced an even more despondent Fay – too dehydrated to run the final 10 miles and too convinced that he didn't deserve to live to accept the water bottles being thrust at him. The hospital bill from _that_ little misadventure had been enough to convince Kurogane a ban on all sports was essential for the next three worlds if they wanted to eat.

His back stiffened as the Angst Muffin in question walked through the front door of the bar. The sultry eyes and wistful expression were par for the course. The spiked collar and girl-pants were an entirely new and terrifying addition.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

Fay emptied the bottle of Wodka into the three shot glasses in front of him. This was his lot in life; dispensing chemical happiness to ridiculous gaggles of girls was clearly his calling and he decided he would do well to embrace it. He held the empty Wodka bottle close to his chest, running his fingers over its ridged handle, accepting his wretched fate and loving every plastic-coated inch of it.

Syaoran slapped the bottle out of his hands and quickly collected payment from the alcohol-saturated group, winking slyly in their direction. For good measure, he slipped a bill into the startled magician's collar.

The crowd whooped appreciatively.

Syaoran thanked his lucky stars that the libraries in this world had nothing to offer regarding the splitting-off of joined persons/memories/fathers from his body. This had the potential to be a very _difficult_ stay otherwise. He smacked the cash register drawer suggestively with his hips and smiled hopefully at the owner.

The owner smiled back. He had no idea what was wrong with the overtly effeminate one tonight, but _was _placing extra stock in the overtly masculine one's judgments after he had suggested his overtly innocent friend would more than make up for lost revenue.

He made a mental note to stop abusing the word "overtly," even though he struggled to find a word that "overtly" would not greatly enhance in adjectivity to describe the trio. He instead made a mental note to stop making up words.

Kurogane wondered how long the wizard would continue to stare at his boots.

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

The lock on the doors clicked into position at 6am.

Kurogane eyed the downcast magician as he stacked chairs onto their tables. Fay was carefully polishing the bar, or at least carefully polishing a portion of the bar. Slowly, his rag traced languid circles around his reflection. His eyes had long since glazed over as he stared down the deeply varnished patterns in the wood.

Syaoran, eager to finish the clean-up and get to bed, silently took the rag from his friend and handed him an overflowing trash bag, nodding toward the backdoor. Just as silently, Fay took the bag and headed toward the dumpster.

"Well, that was an interesting night."

Kurogane growled. "Oh yes, _tons _of fun." He eyed the backdoor. "I think he'll be calling in sick tonight."

Syaoran shrugged. "We brought in enough in tips last night to cover the rent for the next two months…"

"That's all well and good," Kurogane grunted, flipping up a bar stool, "but there's no sense in paying rent for three if I have to kill one of us before the week's out."

"Maybe…" the reply was cut short by the sudden explosion of noise from the back entrance. Kurogane swore under his breath as he slammed the last of the barstools onto the counter and headed for the door.

He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't the sight of the wizard perched on top of the remains of the dumpster, eyes wide with fear and darting from side to side as they scoured the pavement below for an unseen foe. He lifted an eyebrow.

"They're everywhere!" Fay shrieked, jumping onto the ninja's shoulders.

"_What's_ everywhere?" Kurogane demanded, trying to regain his balance. He forcefully readjusted Fay's foot, which was currently digging heel-first into his ribs, and moved to yank the pale hands out of his hair. He was rewarded with a fistful of extra-strength pomade for his troubles.

"White death! With red eyes and horrible pointy teeth!"

"What?" Kurogane gritted his teeth as the magician's arms wrapped around his face, obscuring his vision. He noticed a flash of white hopping off around the corner just before his sight went completely dark. "Don't tell me you're afraid of the damned rabbits now."

"They _bit _me!"

"Oh for _fu_…" He cursed silently as he headed toward the back staircase, the magician still clinging desperately to his head. Wordlessly, he dumped Fay down at the kitchen table and stomped back outside, looking for a hammer. It was going to take most of the morning to fix the damned dumpster.

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

"Kuro-myuu hates me."

"No, I don't."

"I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're a wonderful mother."

"Don't feed the troll, kid," Kurogane grunted, taking a heavy swig from his cup. "Besides, he knows_ damn well _he's a terrible mother when he locks himself in the bedroom for the third day running." The last part of this was directed toward the bedroom door.

Kurogane had reached his limit. A week had passed with little improvement in the magician's mood. When - on the third day - Kurogane had outright barred him from going to work, Fay had resigned himself to lying on the bedroom floor, utterly motionless except for the tears of despair that fell slowly down his cheeks. It was only after Kurogane had come home from a particularly rough night of bouncing and proceeded to laugh at him that he'd begun locking the door and playing whiny guitar music at full volume.

Syaoran felt Kurogane's pain. When the AMS struck, his initial response was invariably fear, followed closely by a strong urge to defecate. Once the preliminary shock wore off, however, he found himself having a great deal of sympathy for the magician; he was, after all, well-traveled in the path of the Angst Muffin.

Generally by the fourth or fifth day, it was all he could do not to laugh.

He was never sure what, exactly, caused this shift in his demeanor. He'd briefly entertained the idea that he was reacting to the cognitive dissonance that watching a man who had been: left for dead, watched his twin brother die while being saved from death, sealed away the only man who'd ever shown him kindness, lost an eyeball (to a blood-thirsty clone whom who he had traveled with and cared deeply about), become a vampire, watched the only man who'd shown him kindness in his youth killed by the man to whom he owed his life, watched his twin brother die again (or at least fade away into petals), watched the man to whom he owed his life slice off his own arm to save him yet again, and then graciously accepted being stuffed into a furisode once they reached safety (the following punctuation is for _your_ safety, dear reader); brood for hours over slightly burnt toast was bound to produce. When his mind reeled recounting the magician's past, let alone trying to string the thought into a coherent sentence, he opted for a simpler solution and considered that he might, in fact, just be a terrible person.

Whatever the case, the addition of the tight jeans and thickly rimmed glasses weren't helping matters.

A loud _SNAP _from the kitchen pulled him out of his reverie. Another Ratbit. The population in the apartment seemed to be growing by the day, likely due to the large amount of food Fay was currently in the practice of throwing into the garbage (or at the wall, or at the floor…) when it didn't meet his standards. The amount of money the trio was currently spending on food and Ratbit traps was nearly outpacing their wages; Syaoran observed with only the _faintest_ note jealousy that his tips had been cut three-fold without the angst-ridden magician keeping him company behind the bar.

Kurogane walked to the kitchen to empty the trap. "That's three in the past hour…" he observed to no one in particular.

Syaoran hoped the furry bastards weren't making their way into the bedroom. He was quite sure that the bar patrons would notice the commotion. He walked over to the door and rapped quietly.

"We're heading to work now, see you in the morning…Mom," he added the title as a sort of apology for his earlier fit of giggles.

"I'll be here," came the slightly choked reply, "wallowing in my deep pool of nothingness..."

Syaoran thought he could hear the sound of a head banging slowly against the floor and stuffed a few pieces of chocolate beneath the door.

Kurogane slammed the door behind them.

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

For a Saturday night, the bar was surprisingly dead, Kurogane noted with some relief. He didn't begrudge his boss the business, but taking care of three children during the day and putting in a full night's worth of work was really starting to take its toll on him. Especially as some idiot could usually be depended on to sing the entirety of "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" thrice-over in an increasingly high-pitched drunken falsetto. When it came time to close up, he was in a remarkably good mood. He'd even briefly considered treating the wizard to a chocolate fudge sundae over waffles for breakfast.

So, it was with some consternation that he first noted the state of the kitchen as he entered the apartment. The stove-top burners had been left set on "high," the walls smeared with what appeared to be chocolate-covered lettuce-wraps, traces of peanut butter and jelly oozing out of the sides. He noted the remains of what he assumed had once been bacon still on the counter and fervently hoped the idiot hadn't been dipping _that_ in chocolate as well.

The living room was in a (slightly) better condition, with only the sofa upturned. Mokona snored heavily on top of a lamp, murmuring quietly in its sleep about "fringe" and "bellybuttons."

He walked toward the bedroom door and hesitated. Steeling his nerves, he turned the handle.

_Locked._

He banged twice on the door.

_No answer._

Cursing the extra money a broken door was going take out of his paycheck, he threw his weight against the jamb and ripped it from the frame.

The massacre had been spectacular. The floor, slick with blood, was littered with the corpses of hundreds of mutilated Ratbits. The wizard paused mid-knife stroke to stare in horror at Kurogane, then brought the blade crashing down into the gut of a still squealing victim.

Kurogane screamed as he leapt across the room to stop the magician. Fay looked over his shoulder, eyes wide in terror as he raised the knife again…

_"FUCKING MAGE! THAT'S MY TOE!"_

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

Kurogane awoke to the smell of disinfectant and the sound of familiar instrumental music being played at a low volume. He looked around, wondering where he was and at what point he had fallen asleep. He had vague memories of a slaughter house dripping with chocolate.

"Good morning, Kuro-sama."

Kurogane recoiled in fear as the memories came rushing back to him. He moved his feet underneath himself to shuffle backwards and collapsed in agonizing pain as the spot where his left big toe used to be smashed into the futon.

"Don't worry, he's no longer Angsty," a familiar voice said from the shadows.

_Tomoyo_. He was developing a real knack for arriving in Nihon with missing appendages.

"Who's worried?" Kurogane scoffed, thankful the worst was apparently over. He sat up to look at the mage. "You," he said flatly, "can be a real pain in the ass."

"Yay! Kuro-puu doesn't hate me anymore!" Fay squealed, then, leaning closer with an anxious, somber expression "I'm sorry."

"No. No more angst. Just go back to being a mostly happy idiot."

* 11 * 11 * 11 * 11 *

"It sounds like you've had quite the trip," the princess remarked later over dinner.

"'Quite' isn't _quite_ the word I'd use," Kurogane grunted.

"But on the bright side," Tomoyo continued loudy, ignoring the ninja, "it seems like you've finally discovered a viable cure for AMS." She smiled brightly.

"We did?" Kurogane and Syaoran exchanged confused glances.

"Yes," Fay continued, "We discussed the, erm, 'incident' with Watanuki and came to the conclusion that it's likely that…well…our last night there did a world of good for me."

"_A world of good_?" Kurogane growled, not liking the direction this conversation was headed. "You massacred a legion of rabbits and cut off my toe."

"Cute, innocent, _fluffy_ rabbits," Syaoran added through clenched teeth. After Kurogane had passed out, he had been left with most of the clean-up duty.

"Yes, well…" Tomoyo continued hesitantly, "it certainly snapped him right out of it, didn't it?"

Kurogane and Syaoran exchanged concerned glances over the table.

"And it does seem to fit the pattern…" she trailed off, not terribly eager to conjure images of a bloodied Sakura _or_ Kurogane during dinner.

"So what you're saying is that him slaughtering something cute and innocent and me losing a piece of my body is an instant cure for Angst Muffin Syndrome?" Kurogane demanded.

Fay had the decency to look ashamed.

"Fuck it. Next time we're trying the 'Take two Midol and call me in the morning.' approach."


	4. Chapter 4

**With apologies to the writers of Arrested Development…**

_Chapitre 4: The Power to Chafe_

_Hiding beneath his pants, a certain fringe-trimmed abomination and a powerful terror. A fear no effort can extinguish._

_May 5__th__, Kendappa 13_

_Age: 12 _

_Height: 5'4"_

_Weight: 110_

_Ginryuu: 4_

_Miles run: 10_

_Sword practice: 4 hours_

_Enemies killed (est.): ½ (dog, but had big teeth)_

_Parents avenged: 0_

_Notes: Souma is a bitch. _

"Gods, he was a boring child, wasn't he?" Fay giggled as Tomoyo translated.

"Oh, it gets much better," the princess assured him, flipping a few pages ahead in the book. "This was from when he first came here – he was under quite a bit of…well... duress. Here we go; this is where the fun starts."

_January 8__th__, Kendappa 16_

_Age: 15 _

_Height: 5'11"_

_Weight: 175_

_Ginryuu: 6.5_

_Miles run: 15_

_Sword practice: 0 hours_

_Enemies killed (est.): 124_

_Parents avenged: 0_

_Hair: chest (1), chin (5), back (0), Ci[illegible]uu (146)_

_Notes: Tomoyo not impressed with slaughter of invaders. Wonder how she sleeps so well at night._

"Sounds like a particularly busy day for him."

"Not really. He mistook a traveling caravan of peasants for invaders. The 124 was including the horses _and_ the carts," Tomoyo paused, a cat-like grin forming on her face, "We've always been of the opinion that the three days spent alone locked up in a _kekkai_ after this little misadventure was what prompted him to start counting his body hair."

"I want to know what the illegible word is!" the magician giggled.

"So would we," Tomoyo confided, "His writing has never been easy to read. It doesn't look like the kanji for 'head' or even like it's supposed to be a running total…" she broke off suddenly and snapped the book closed. "Here he comes, pretend like I'm taking your measurements."

A ripe, sweaty Kurogane burst through the doors seconds later. He eyed the duo in the corner suspiciously, eyes narrowing as he spotted a tape measure wrapping around the mage's waist.

"No cross-dressing," he grunted, setting Ginryuu in a corner and fumbling for a towel.

Fay looked confused.

Tomoyo rolled her eyes. "Transphobe."

Kurogane growled and stomped off toward the baths.

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Syaoran watched over his shoulder nervously as the trio of girls ducked behind a corner. He wasn't entirely sure how long they'd been following him, but for the last fifteen minutes or so the giggling had been a rather obnoxious indicator.

It wasn't that he particularly minded their attention. After the magician's latest bout of AMS, he felt he could handle a trio of girls (however bouncy…er, em…_bubbly_) with a fair amount of ease. His primary dilemma, at the moment, was that he was utterly and hopelessly lost. He had parted ways with Kurogane after their (unduly grueling in his mind) three hour sword practice session. Overconfident in his navigation abilities after years of traveling through different worlds, he had neglected to follow the ninja back to their rooms, opting instead for a quick dip in the lake to refresh himself. Unfortunately, Shirasagi Castle was proving to be a formidable foe of long, winding hallways and abrupt dead-ends. More than anything, he wanted to ask the girls for directions, but every time he turned around they disappeared around the last corner, or into a shadowed nook in the hallway.

He quietly considered the irony of losing his guide while skinny dipping, only to have picked up a group of followers who obviously knew every dark corner of the castle but flatly refused to let him ask for directions, and seethed. He was never going to understand women.

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

A flood of lime-green, googly-eyed frogs spilled out of Mokona's mouth onto the floor of Tomoyo's sitting room.

"They're wonderful!" the princess exclaimed, clutching a plush figure dressed in a red and white striped top to her chest. "I just can't believe that you're able to find so many that match the original across all the worlds you travel to!"

"Well, Keroppi is a very popular character," Fay explained, dusting off a plastic hat emblazoned with the character. "And Sanrio MegaCorp has a very aggressive marketing campaign, isn't that right Kuro-pii?"

"Don't call me like a frog," the ninja insisted, shifting uncomfortably against the wall. His distrust of Sanrio characters had been growing exponentially since the incident in Clow Country.

Tomoyo ignored him. "And what is this one?" she asked excitedly, pointing at the wad of plastic in the magician's hand.

"It's a shower cap!" he paused, noting her confused look. "That's like a bath where water is pumped out of a pipe onto your head. But don't worry…!" he added, seeing her horrified expression. "It works just as well as a rain hat!"

"Oh! Wonderful! And what's this one?"

"That's a spork, which I hope you'll let me use at dinner, since Kuro-sama gets mad at me if I stab food with chopsticks…"

"And this?"

"That's a, um, _back-massager_. Here are the batteries!"

Kurogane rolled his eyes and stomped out of the room.

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Fay began to worry when Syaoran didn't show up for dinner. Kurogane, however, insisted that he was just tired from training and to let him rest.

"No one else needs to see you eating off that…thing," he growled, eyeing the green-spotted eating utensil the magician was currently using to skewer dumplings at an alarming rate.

"Ifs oo ard oo ak wif da finchy fings."

"Hmph."

"Nevertheless," the magician continued, swallowing several mouthfuls of gyoza at once, "We should probably take him someth…"

He was cut off by a loud shriek from the hallway. Tomoyo gestured and several guards shuffled out the door. One returned momentarily, whispering something in her ear.

"They haven't found anything," she reported. "They'll continue to look, but there wasn't any evidence of foul play, so there's probably nothing to worry about."

Kurogane smirked. "Probably just your sister groping in the dark for-"

The hot, sticky rice sliding down his face shifted his train of thought from its track. The melted extra-strength pomade trailing down in pursuit managed to derail it completely.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the table-manners of a gorilla?"

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

Syaoran locked the door behind him. He wasn't sure whether his sudden memory of the palace's hallways was an autonomic fight-or-flight response or merely the result of the majority of his blood supply suddenly retreating from his lower regions, but he was very sure that he never, _ever _wanted to see that…"cupping"…motion made by another human's hands so long as he lived.

Mokona.

He needed Mokona.

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

"Ooh! Here's another one!"

"Pluck it."

"Aw, but it's so cute and manly!"

"Seriously, pluck it."

"I'd rather name it. I think this one will be 'Fred.'"

"Well, 'Fred' needs to join his deceased brother 'Jorge.' Gimme that tweezers."

"Murderer."

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

_Blank Date_

_Age: Old enough to know better._

_Height: 6'11"_

_Weight: 275_

_Ginryuu: 9_

_Miles run: 10_

_Sword practice: 3 hours_

_Enemies killed (est.): 2 (planned assassination)_

_Parents avenged: 2_

_Hair: chest (0), chin (0), back (0 – RIP Fred)_

_Notes: Fuck you two. I'm in the closet._

"And here I thought you outgrew _that_ space long ago." Tomoyo scoffed as the ninja gracelessly forced his way out of the wardrobe and fell face-first onto the floor.

"Oh…Kuro-tan!" Fay patted his head. "Are you okay?"

"I am now," Kurogane declared, snatching the book from the mage's hands. "It's a fitness journal, how interesting could it be that you didn't ask to read it?"

"Apparently interesting enough that you burst out of the closet to keep us from reading it."

"You didn't ask."

"Can I read it?"

"No."

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

Syaoran was feeling better than he had in ages. His arms and legs moved with a balletic elegance completely unlike the quick jabs and darts he usually favored. He blocked Kurogane's swings with effortless grace.

The two had been sparing for nearly two hours under the blistering summer sun, though neither of them seemed put-off by the heat. The ninja was impressed with his acolyte's renewed enthusiasm and had thrown himself fully into the match. Syaoran was feeling confident that today would finally be the day he would deliver a smack-down unto his master. Not even the giggling trio of girls he knew were lurking in the shadows of the courtyard were going to distract him from this goal.

Unfortunately for Syaoran, this intense focus was broken by the appearance of the magician and the princess who proceeded to read, at full volume, from a leather-bound book. Kurogane's face flushed several shades of red as Tomoyo's voice recounted a birthday party and the disruption of a rather intimate moment between the empress and her devoted guard by a drunken, and desperately naïve ninja-in-training. Syaoran watched as said ninja's neck inflated in perfect time with the grinding of his teeth as the words "cavorting," "heaving," and "cleavage" were repeated.

"What the hell are you two doing?" the ninja finally snapped at the pair.

"Well, you said we couldn't read yours, so I decided we could read mine," Tomoyo said simply, smiling innocently. "I have nothing to hide in _my_ diary."

"It's not a diary, it's a _fitness journal_! And I don't see what the two of you are so intent on finding in there anyway!"

"Well, you know…" the mage smiled, "I wanted to know what Kuro-rin was like when he was little!"

"Hmph."

Syaoran grimaced. His relationship with the concept of "invaded privacy" was far more intimate than that of his traveling companions. Being the keeper of both his own _and_ his father/clone's memories had provided him with some…_interesting_ recollections. Most people never had to witness the horror of their own birth (at least not from _that_ angle), though he was quick to admit that the memory of having sex with his own mother was currently battling (quite ferociously) to claim the title of "Most Disturbing Thought EVER." The fact that Sakura shared many of these same memories hadn't actually occurred to him for some months, though when it had he hadn't been sure whether to worry more about the inevitable embarrassing memories of his childhood she was bound to have, or the fact that he and his father/clone obviously shared many of the same sexual proclivities.

That Sakura was identical to his mother was a whole other mess of psychological issues that he had no interest in addressing.

Kurogane, oblivious to Syaoran's inner-monologue, shifted his attention back to their match. If he couldn't shut the princess up, then he would have to be satisfied with ignoring her. He shrugged his arms out of his sleeves, suddenly _very_ aware of the heat, and reset his stance.

Syaoran followed suit, his top falling to hang around his waist, and they were back to business.

Tomoyo smiled. It was _so like_ the ninja to just shrug off her teasing. She considered continuing, but the fun had already been had. She closed the book and noticed something strange about Syaoran's clothing as she turned to the magician.

"What is he wearing under his hakama?"

Fay squinted. He wasn't completely sure, but it looked like a denim waistband peaking up over the material. He frowned, not really in the mood to deal with someone else's psychosis.

"I can't tell," he lied, "Probably just something he picked up in a previous world."

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

"Drop your pants."

"Um, Fay, we're friends and all, but I don't really like you that way."

The magician rolled his eyes and yanked the cloth away from the young man. "What the hell are those?"

"They're cut-offs."

"I can see they're cut-offs. What I want to know is when exactly you decided to become a never-nude."

"A never-what?" Syaoran stared blankly.

Fay sighed. This was apparently more complicated than he had prepared for. "Why are you wearing them?"

"Because I was stalked by some really scary girls, and I thought the button and zipper might confuse them if they ever decided to do more than follow and make obscene gestures."

Fay had to chuckle. The kid was inventive; he certainly had to give him that. But he was also incredibly naive when it came to dealing with the opposite sex. "You just need to learn to talk to them, and then they won't seem so terrifying."

"I don't know…"

"Trust me. We'll practice later."

"Ok…" Syaoran was silent as he absorbed the full impact of what the magician had just said. "Wait…so does this mean that Watanuki…?"

"Is a never-nude. Yes."

"Is that exactly what it sounds like?"

"Pretty much."

"Damn, I thought he just liked cut-offs."

"So did I."

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

Syaoran watched nervously as Fay waltzed his way up to a group of girls and began chatting away. After a moment he motioned for Syaoran to join him, happily oblivious to the look of terror on the young man's face.

Ten minutes passed, then a half hour.

Syaoran was amazed at how well this was going. Carrying on a conversation with fifteen different women at once without shrinking in fear was a feat he had never considered himself equal to. Memories of his stalkers faded slowly away, and he found that he was actually enjoying himself. Fay was right – he could fearlessly go back to his tighty whities.

It helped that the magician was carrying most of the conversation.

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

Syaoran began to worry when Fay didn't show up for dinner. Kurogane, however, was satisfied that he didn't have to endure more of the mage's teasing while he ate.

"No one will miss seeing him eat off that…thing," he growled, eyeing the green-spotted spork currently laid out at the magician's empty place-setting.

"He's really bad with chopsticks..."

"Hmph."

"It's really not like him to miss a meal," Syaoran continued, swallowing a mouthful of gyoza, "We should probably take him someth…"

He was cut off by a loud shriek from the hallway. Tomoyo gestured and several guards shuffled out the door. One returned momentarily, whispering something in her ear.

"They haven't found anything," she reported. "They'll continue to look, but there wasn't any evidence of foul play, so there's probably nothing to worry about."

Kurogane smirked, but was careful to keep his mouth shut this time around. His supply of pomade was running dangerously low.

* 11 * 11 * 11 * 11 *

"Will you please come out from under there?"

"No. Never coming out."

Kurogane grunted and sat on the bed, wondering why the damned cat-faced monstrosity had surfaced this time. He suspected it had something to do with the wizard currently hiding underneath it.

"OOORFMGH!"

"What?" Kurogane shifted his weight.

"I said 'that's my nose, you asshole!'"

"Well if you'd come out, your nose wouldn't get crushed."

"Never coming out," the magician repeated, breaking into heavy sobs punctuated intermittently by the words "horrifying," "obscene," and "cupping."

Kurogane gave up and crawled under the bed to join the distressed mage.

"Why the hell are you wearing cut-offs?"

This only encouraged louder sobs.

* 12 * 12 * 12 * 12 *

Syaoran was not used to acting the part of the mother. Kurogane, sore from a night spent sleeping under the bastardized cat bed had flatly refused the task, preferring instead to go seek revenge on the idiots responsible for his sleepless night.

He placed a tray of rice and fish down next to the bed. Luckily, the magician was hungry enough from missing dinner that he crawled out from under the bed without much coaxing. Unfortunately, he had already been successfully talked out of the cut-offs, providing Syaoran with more of a view than he cared to take in. The youth quickly turned his head and tossed a robe toward his friend.

"They're terrifying!"

"I know."

"Twenty of them!"

"I kn…wait, _twenty_?"

"Something like that. Too many too count. Ran so fast I thought I would die."

"I see."

"…what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing."

"We need to leave here. Today, if possible."

Syaoran agreed. He left to go find Kurogane.

* 13 * 13 * 13 * 13 *

"So what was with the ever-growing numbers for Ginryuu?" Fay asked, carefully positioning a tent pole.

"Huh?" The ninja was confused. This new world didn't appear to have much in the way of civilization (though he did note a paved road running nearby, so it was possible that they had simply landed in a remote area), and he was more concerned with setting up camp before night fell than playing guessing games with the mage.

"In your 'fitness journal.' There was always a measurement of some sort for 'Ginryuu,' and it kept getting bigger. Tomoyo and I were confused because you never wrote any units next to it, and we were both fairly sure that swords don't grow," he looked up with a wild gleam in his eye. "So what was it?"

Kurogane chuckled, slightly embarrassed. He wordlessly pulled Ginryuu out of its sheath and carefully placed nine fingers onto the handle, leaving only a thumb extended.

Fay groaned. "Well, I suppose that also explains the illegible kanji…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: **this was inspired by accidentally reading the message boards at MangaFox and laughing my ass off for an hour at the shipping wars... I don't know that it's all the funny to anyone who isn't a huge CLAMP fan or isn't me for that matter…

_  
Chapitre 5: The Moment of Fundamentalism.  
To keep on fighting…to see the Holy Book of CLAMP revered. Until that day…_

The clearing was silent apart from the crackling of the fire, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of a cricket. The night air was warm and muggy and, curiously, filled with the stink of week-old socks. In the three hours since the group had landed in this world they had managed to set up a half-way decent camp, but were still struggling to find any sign of human life and had been thus far unsuccessful in convincing their rabbit-eared companion to spit out more for dinner than a suspicious-looking package labeled "Oscar Meyer."

"Are you sure this is actually food?" Kurogane tentatively sniffed the limp cylinder hanging from the end of his stick.

"Oh, don't be such a spoil-sport. Put some ketchup on it and you'll barely notice the charred bits."

"I'm not sure that's really food either." The ninja eyed the red bottle with malice. "Food" should not need to be slathered with other "food" to be edible. And "food" certainly shouldn't piss out a stream of angry vinegar because you forgot to shake the bottle properly.

"They're made of lips and brains! Lips and brains!" Mokona sang, bouncing along a fallen log they had set around the fire. "And toes! And snouts! And ea-!"

Kurogane noted with satisfaction that he had indeed shaken the bottle well enough to land a nearly-juiceless tomato-splot directly on the manjuu's forehead. He grinned and doused his hot dog with the vile red glop. "Theef tafe bether whem eaten in filence."

"Waaah! Kuro-rin is such a bast-!" Mokona was cut off by a rush of cold water pouring down its head.

"What was that?"

"Waaah! Kuro-rin is thirsty!" Mokona quickly corrected, coughing a magnum of sake.

"That's better. Have a cookie."

Mokona quickly snatched the morsel of hot dog Kurogane threw at it, then jumped to the safety of Fay's shoulder and made an impressively rude gesture for a creature with no fingers.

"You're in quite the mood tonight," the magician chuckled, snuggling his face against their furry companion. "What's got you so worked up?"

"Hmph." Kurogane uncorked the bottle and tipped it back.

"Well, I suppose there's only one way to make Kuro-sama more comfortable…" Fay cooed, batting his eyes.

The ninja raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yep!" With a quick motion the magician plucked the bottle of sake from his surprised companion's hand and danced away from the fire.

The mage's maniacal laughter pierced the quiet night as Kurogane slowly got to his feet.

"Manjuu, my sword."

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

A loud crash from outside the tent shook Fay out of an otherwise pleasant sleep. He opened his eyes to see Syaoran sitting bolt upright, also awakened by the noise. The ninja was nowhere to be seen.

The wizard rolled his eyes and crawled slowly toward the door flap. Pulling himself half-way out with his elbows, he turned his head to look upward, squinty-eyed and still groggy with sleep. "Seriously, Kuro-rin, it's too early for this shi…"The green-haired man staring back at him did not look amused.

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Kurogane grunted as he slung the goat over his shoulder. He was still in a bit of shock at how difficult it had been to take down – it was only a goat after all, but it had run faster than any goat he'd ever seen (which, to be fair, hadn't actually been that many, but he was fairly certain they weren't supposed to go _that_ fast or scream _that_ loud…). He headed back toward the camp.

He had been woken hours earlier by a disgustingly bright pink light burning through his eyelids. After opening his eyes to an even more disgustingly bright pink tent canvas over his head, he had decided that going back to sleep wasn't an option. It was only as he had crawled out between the two halves of the damned cat's face printed on the door flaps that he'd decided he needed to kill something.

At least now they had something for breakfast that wasn't a pasty meat-like-substance packed into little tubes.

A loud clatter caught his attention, and he picked up his pace. He had hoped to have the goat on a spit and roasting before the mage woke up and started interfering, but if he had to physically restrain him, he was well warmed-up from the hunt.

He didn't like the look of the green haired man standing in front of the tent.

"Oi," he growled, swinging the goat down next to the fire to land with a thud.

"Um, Kuro-sama, before you go all angry ninja on this guy…" Fay began, quickly packing supplies into Mokona.

"We need to leave here. It's not safe," Syaoran finished, collapsing the tent with a swift movement .

"This is a dangerous place to camp," the green-haired stranger supplied, stretching a hand forward, "I'm Ferio. I'll escort you to our compound, where you're welcome to stay."

Kurogane narrowed his eyes and wondered just _what_ this Ferio could have told the other men to make them pack up and turn tail like scared kittens.

Ferio lowered his hand and stared at the goat the ninja had dropped. "You didn't eat any of that, did you?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Don't eat that. _Never_ eat that."

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

The "compound" seemed to be little more than several dome-shaped pod structures surrounded by a barbed wire fence, Kurogane noted with more than a hint of distain. He was, however, impressed by sheer number of weapons littering the lawn. It wasn't every day you ran across a hovel defended by 16 Gatling guns, several dozen swords, and what appeared to be cartons upon cartons of grenades.

The collection of what appeared to be cars resting on cinder-blocks wasn't what he would normally classify as "impressive," but was intimidating nonetheless.

"What did you say the name of this country was?"

"Toyota," Ferio replied, leading the travelers into the largest of the pods, "Though I wouldn't really call it a country. Not anymore."

Kurogane had reached his breaking point. "Can we cut the cryptic bullshit already?"

"Of course, of course," the green-haired man replied, "Welcome to Toyota – lord knows how you got here without reading the road signs." He opened a door and gestured, "Please, feel free to relax a bit and I'll get some food prepared. We can talk more then."

"WAAAK! I'M COMING!"

The travelers' attention was drawn toward a four-winged bird perched in the corner of the room. Ferio rolled his eyes.

"This is Windam," he grunted, throwing a stray rock at the bird, "He has the unfortunate habit of repeating the last thing anyone says back to them. _Do_ try not to kill him," He turned to leave the room, muttering "though I won't miss the little bastard if you did…" under his breath.

Fay looked closely at the bird. It seemed…_familiar_ somehow.

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

Lunch was a casual affair, with all the participants seated cross-legged around a round table. Bowls of cooked greens and beans were passed around with loaves of bread.

Despite the casual atmosphere, Syaoran felt himself creeping closer to the brink of a full-on panic attack. His "admirers" from Nihon had returned to torture him. The bizarre colors of their hair made them impossible to mistake; though fortunately this familiarity appeared to be one-sided. The blue-haired one was returning his look of utter terror with faint amusement, while the blond appeared worried that he might keel over. The pink-haired one, however – Hikaru, she had called herself – was casting a death glare in his direction.

Syaoran stared at the plate in front of him and tried to ignore the dark-haired man seated next to her and the aggressive way she yanked at the chain attached to his collar.

Fay cleared his throat. "So, you're the last women in the area…"

"Yes," the blond girl said sadly, blinking back tears, "thanks to that…that…yaoi-worshiping _cult_."

"Don't cry, Fuu," Ferio carefully wiped away a tear from her eye, "This is still our home." He rubbed her shoulder affectionately.

Kurogane felt he might lose his appetite.

"Our ancestors worked long and hard to build this country," Ferio continued, "It was damned hard to build an economy completely around auto racing as well. It required a careful mixture of hard work, faith, and left-hand turns. And then_ they_ showed up, claiming to understand the_ true will _of the almighty and slowly converted most of the men with their fancy cardboard signs and promises of tantric salvation." He scoffed. "They drove the women away and then turned toward the goats."

No, Kurogane was _certain_ he had lost his appetite.

"Tantric _what_?" Fay asked.

"Salvation," the blue-haired girl supplied, feeding a piece of bread to the small blue lizard sitting near her plate. "Bad Celes!" she screamed as the lizard spit a stream of water out onto the table. She continued, dumping the reptile unceremoniously onto the ground, "All of their nonsense started during the Great Shipping War of '07. They're splitters with funny ideas about pairings. And don't get me started on their 'holy book.' A woman would have to be insane to stay here."

"But you're still here," Kurogane noted.

"Yes, well, it's difficult to leave when your entire source of income is tied to auto racing as ours is. There really isn't anywhere else where we could make a living, much less uphold our current standard of living."

"Uh…_huh_."

"And besides, we'll either breed them out of existence or bomb them into next Thursday."

Fay swallowed forcefully. "I wonder which is more likely?"

"What Umi is trying to say…" Ferio began, but was abruptly cut off as a large, firey red wolf galloped into the room and began humping his leg to a surprisingly steady tempo.

"Goddammit Rayearth!" Hikaru threw her fork down on the table. "How many times do I have to tell you that we do _NOT hump in the kitchen_?"

"You know," Umi muttered, rolling her eyes, "you wouldn't have this problem if you'd just get him fixed…"

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

"Alright, manjuu," Kurogane growled once they were alone in their room, "This place is too weird. Get us out of here right now before something goes wrong."

"Mokona isn't taking Kuro-jerkface anywhere until he apologizes!"

"Why you…"

"This isn't helping," Fay sighed, grabbing the ninja's wrist before he was able to take a swing at Mokona. "Please, just apologize. This place is…eerie. Guns, cars, and religion should _never_ be this closely intertwined. _And_, I think their little 'pets' are somehow related to the Kudan we had in Hanshin country. I really don't want to find out what they're capable of if they're upset."

"And did you notice the dark-haired guy at lunch?" Syaoran joined in.

"Yeah," Kurogane grunted, "What the _hell_ was that about?"

"I didn't even mean the chains. We've met him before. In Infinity."

"Lantis," Fay grumbled, carefully suppressed memories bubbling to the surface. "Please Kuro-tan, just apologize, and let's get out of here."

"Sorry."

"That's not a real apology."

"DAMMIT MANJUU!" Kurogane lurched for the rabbit-eared bane of his existence and missed.

"Now you have to apologize TWICE!"

"Oh for fuck's sake…"

"WAAAK! DAMMIT MANJUU!"

"And now there are two talking fuzz-bags I'm going to kill."

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

Dawn had not yet broken when the sirens began to wail. The three men bolted up from their beds, searching in vain for any clue as to what was happening.

"What is this?" Syaoran barked.

"WAAAK! NOT WITH THE CAT WATCHING!"

Kurogane was tempted to be amused at what he knew very well must have been the kid's sleep-talk, but had more pressing matters to attend to. Fay was currently half awake and in the process of conjuring a string of characters he recognized as an attack capable of blasting through a rock wall. Kurogane, however, had enough sense about him to suspect that they would be buried by the rickety pod structure once the blast hit.

"Not in here!" he screamed, knocking the mage's arm down a moment too late. The blast ripped open the wall into the hallway.

"WAAAK! GOODNIGHT SNOOKYWOOKUMS!"

Kurogane froze, momentarily torn between throttling the bird and escaping through the hole Fay had just created.

"In here! I can hear the damned bird!"

The trio stared as a familiar looking tall man and what appeared to be no more than a boy ran in through the blasted wall.

"Dammit," the kid cursed, "He's not in here."

"Oi!" a third voice joined the fray, "I've got him! Let's get out of here!"

The last thought Kurogane had as he face-planted was to wonder how that bird had gotten so damned…_big_ all of a sudden.

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

"You always have to get on the bad side of the animals, don't you?"

Kurogane barely had one eye open, but didn't even need that to know that Fay was less than happy.

"What?" he looked around, "Where the hell are we now?"

"Well, considering the door is locked and the windows are barred, I'd have to say we're in prision, which you should be well-acquainted with" Fay laughed, "And I have no idea how we got here. The last thing I saw was the parakeet's fiery friend lunging toward my head."

"And you couldn't just break us out of here? Where's the kid...?"

"He's over there. Still knocked out, before you ask. It's a bit difficult to sling you both over my shoulder, you know, especially when Mokona is hyperventilating and sucking most of the oxygen out of the air."

"There's no need to get pissy."

"You have no idea what pissy looks like."

"I think I have a vague idea." Kurogane rubbed his head, fingers closing protectively over a newly-formed lump. He wondered why, if the mage was so concerned, he hadn't simply transported them out of here.

Fay sat down. His head ached from the concussion he'd sustained when the fiery red wolf, responding to the enraged parakeet's cries, had torn into their room and repeatedly slammed his forehead against the floor to a surprisingly steady tempo. His hands were shaky; he didn't trust himself to write a spell to boil eggs, much less transport them across dimensions. "I figured it was better to just wait here until we knew what we were dealing with than to accidentally turn us all into newts."

"Hmph."

As fate would have it, the prisoners wouldn't have long to wait to know what they were dealing with. Within minutes, a familiar trio entered the room.

Kurogane was not pleased. Eagle Vison ,Geo Metro, and the enigmatically named Lantis (though Kurogane had a sneaking suspicion the man was part of the Mazda family…). He_ knew_ the tall guy that had burst into their room earlier had looked familiar. He hadn't been particularly fond of the trio when they had met their dopplegangers in Infinity, but the look of pure lechery coming from the bushy eye-browed man made him appreciate their "hospitality" even less. "Are you part of the cult they told us about?" he asked flatly.

"_Cult?"_ Eagle seemed genuinely taken aback, "We are followers of the one true Nanase, author of the Holy Book of CLAMP! _They're_ the heretics that refuse to adhere to scripture!"

"They get all of their teachings from the watered down rantings of animated television preachers!" Geo exclaimed. "They have no idea the true teachings of the Holy Book of CLAMP!"

"So you weren't raiding their compound to steal their women?" Fay asked carefully.

"What? No!" Eagle sounded indignant. "We just wanted Lantis back! He's on _our_ team after all! Those bitches keep stealing him!"

"And you haven't…you know – with the goats?"

"With the goats…? What? Geo sings to them every morning before he milks them. He has a beautiful voice."

Kurogane shuddered.

"Whatever," Eagle grunted, "They're always accusing us of doing something with barn animals. They know they can't win against us logically, so they spread around filth."

"Not that it matters," Geo added sullenly, "Even though we got Lantis back, we're still short on team members. AND we can't count on him not to switch teams again." He eyed the dark-haired man standing in the corner, looking bored.

"They made me a very reasonable offer," the other countered.

"We found you wearing a dog collar, chained to the bed."

"Yes, but you didn't ask my opinion."

"It is _WRITTEN IN THE BOOK OF CLAMP_ that you _will_ play for our team."

"I think you might be digging a little bit too deep into the subtext."

"Whatever, you're on our team for sure," Eagle snipped.

"Um, could I ask why we're here?" Fay asked, almost too tactfully.

"Oh, um, yeah."

"…"

"We thought you looked out of place there, so we brought you with us."

"And the locks…?"

"For your own protection. Seedy bunch of sinners that live around here."

"Uh huh."

"They really shouldn't lie," Lantis said, stepping forward, "They need a pit crew and cheerleaders and thought that you looked like the type to help them."

"So they locked us in a room. With bars on the windows."

"No one ever accused them of being subtle."

"Look, you all seem like you'd make great additions to our team…so would you consider joining us?" Eagle gasped, working his face into a surprisingly lippy pout.

"I don't know about that kid," Geo said, eyeing Syaoran suspiciously. "He's not giving off the right vibe."

"No, you're right," Eagle agreed, turning his attention back to the ninja and the mage, "but you two certainly seem to be an excellent fit for our team. We can overlook your friend's shortcomings if it means victory. Will you assist us in defeating the heretics?"

"We don't know anything about your vehicles and really…" Fay started.

"That's fine," Geo interrupted. "We can teach you."

"Ok…" the magician trailed off. He wasn't sure if this compound was as heavily armed as the last, but he was fairly certain that participating in a race would be less work than escaping through a rain of heavy artillery fire. He knew for a fact that it would be less work than transporting the four of them to a new dimension would be.

Kurogane grunted. His memory of a weakened Fay requiring _far _too much assistance and being _far _too exacting with his cooking instructions after the last time he had transported them to a new world without the help of Mokona was far too fresh to ignore. Surely no one could be expected to boil _that _number beets a second time. Against his better judgment, he agreed.

"Yes!" Eagle shouted, adding a skip in his step, "Now we are assured a victory!"

"Yeah…"

"Here, take this," Eagle pressed a thick volume into Fay's hands. "Read over it well tonight, for it shall surely guide you in your devotions."

Kurogane exhaled a deep sigh of despair.

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

"No, that's still not an apology," Mokona insisted, hopping away from Kurogane.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Give me a kiss and tell me you'll never be mean again."

"I'm not kissing you."

"Then we're not leaving."

"Fine," Kurogane grumbled, "Stupid manjuu."

"Can you read any of the text, Syaoran?" Fay asked, leaning over the other's head.

"I can read it, but I don't have a clue as to what it's supposed to mean…"

"Huh?"

"Well, it's all written in verse, and it's some of the strangest stuff I have ever read. A_nd,_ it seems that more than half of the pages have been torn out," Syaoran turned to face the wizard and the ninja. "Listen to this: 'Chapter 10, Verse 6: Woe to ye who be a woman with discernable sexual agency, for this shall all end in tears, I just know it.' Or 'Chapter 10, Verse 18: Deny ye not the Church of Man Love, lest the almighty be forced to pluck another eye.' That last is cross-referenced to the book of Bowie, psalm 'Moonage Daydream', Verse 2, which I can't actually seem to find in here. And _then_, the last couple of pages just read 'KAWAII! KAWAII! KAWAII!' I have no idea what to make of it."

Syaoran thought he heard the magician giggle, but when he brought their eyes together he noted the deadly serious look on his companion's face.

Fay shifted uncomfortably and wondered exactly _what_ vibe he and Kurogane were giving off that made their hosts so eager to have them on their "team". He had encountered many strange phenomena and even stranger religions in his time, but he wasn't one to abide silly superstitions (not after being locked in death's valley for so long) and he certainly wasn't one abet the ritual shunning of one of his dearest friends because of the selected rantings of a "holy book." "Come on Kuro-rin, pucker up; I don't think we want to hang around here much longer."

"Hmph."

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

The following days were spent changing tires, pumping gas, and milking goats.

Fay had been quickly selected to work with the pit crew; his swift, nimble fingers and easy familiarity with engines proving to be a huge boon to the racing team.

Kurogane, however, having banished their experiences in Piffle Country to the darkest recesses of his memory, had been relegated to the cheering squad. He would have complained (loudly and violently), if he hadn't been concerned for the kid.

Syaoran had been all but forgotten by their "hosts." Each morning, he was greeted with the requisite kindness, and quickly shuffled away with whatever reading Eagle had prepared for him that day, always under the pretense of being "cured." Kurogane wasn't sure what the kid needed to be "cured" of, but he was fairly sure that these fundamentalist nutbags had nothing to offer that would leave the kid better off than he already was. The only good part of this daily exercise was the translations the kid would report back daily.

"Chapter 18, Verse 10: Woe be to the Blondy, for to him shall fall the lion's share of despair. Whether in the form of a FUBARed childhood or chronic illness, way to go white boy."

Fay rolled his eyes.

"Chapter 19, Verse 34: Pedophilia rests in the eye of the beholder. Let no span of ages be too wide to unite your love."

"Pedo-_what_? "

"Maybe they're Catholic…"

"No, I think they said 'over-zealous yaoi-fangirls'."

"I think you mean 'fan-boys.'"

"Whatever, let the kid keep reading."

"Chapter 43, Verse 12: Seriously dude, don't make us pluck another eye."

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

Finally, after weeks of preparation, the day of the race was upon them.

Kurogane was relieved that his "cheerleading" duties were limited to holding up signs announcing how much the almighty Nanase loathed heretics. The uniform ruffled skort and mesh top was nothing to him as he scornfully eyed the miniskirts and unshaved legs of the competition. He was, however, uncomfortable with several of the signs' illustrations depicting the "correct" way to practice the faith. Although, he supposed there really was no good way to depict an empty eye-socket with finger paints...

Syaoran and Mokona, unwilling to simply warm the bleachers, had joined the ninja with signs of their own, though they had chosen their attire more carefully.

Fay was…bored. Watching cars take left turns for hours on end was nearly as exciting as watching paint dry. He racked his brain desperately for a way to convince the ninja to apologize to Mokona so they could be on their merry way out of this god-forsaken (or over-saturated, as it seemed) world.

The cars rounded their final turn, Hikaru and Eagle slamming on their gas pedals as they approached the finish line. They raced, front end to front end, toward the finish line.

From the sideline, Lantis blew a kiss.

In the resulting shouting match between the drivers over who said kiss had been directed at, both looked away from the track. Their front tires locked.

Kurogane barely had time to force the others out of the way as the cars came careening toward them. In his confusion, he tripped, falling face-forward into the manjuu.

* 11 * 11 * 11 * 11 *

"Kurogane is a terrible kisser!"

"Shut up, Manjuu!" The ninja had turned a bright shade of red.

"You didn't need to use so much tongue! Mokona almost died!"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

"Mokona's epiglottis is very important for keeping cake out of my lungs! It's not some sort of sexy goal!"

Syaoran scooped up the white ball of fluff before the ninja could draw his sword. At least they had escaped the wreckage. And that world. That was enough for now.

* 12 * 12 * 12 * 12 *

The medical team was, fortunately, well-equipped to deal with eye injuries. They were not, however, used to dealing with so many victims of the almighty's wrath at once. The lead physician looked at the motley trio and wondered what kind of sins the red haired girl and her two male companions had committed.

"Chapter 10, Verse 18," the blond man muttered.

"But _she_ lost her eye as well," the dark haired one answered. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? There's never been a three-way-eye-pluck-pairing before."

"I guess we're back to where we started."

"I guess so."

"Rematch next week?"

"Of course."


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapitre 6: Strength of the Heat._

_With the air conditioner roaring, with the window sealed –_

_When the karaoke machine is broken, the waitress will refuse to break change._

Surely this was paradise, if ever Syaoran had known it. The weather was warm, and, if the beaches and tropical plants were anything to judge by, the climate was more than hospitable as well. Most importantly, however, the currency of this country consisted of any object with an official Hello Kitty likeness stamped on it; the more rare the article, the more valuable.

For the first (and likely the last) time in his life, Syaoran had given thanks to Sanrio MegaCorp's absurdly aggressive inter-dimensional marketing campaign. _And_ to the magician's insistence that the 12 pack of pink nail clippers had been a steal at only 3 oolongs for a set. He certainly wasn't going to grumble _now_ about the fact that he'd been talked into buying 4 sets.

Really, who could have predicted that one of the pinchers alone would have bought them a week's stay in the most luxurious accommodations this world had to offer?

Who could have predicted that nail clippers would be a precious object in _any_ world?

No, he certainly wasn't complaining. This was the first time in ages they had enough money for a roof over their heads without any real labor on their part. Currencies were hard enough to exchange, so if they could hand over souvenirs…

This truly was paradise.

He set out from the hotel with the mobile persacom provided by the resort perched on his shoulder. He loved his companions dearly, but a day left entirely to his own devices was far overdue.

"You missed the turn," the purple haired robot told him flatly.

Syaoran rolled his eyes and wondered _why_ the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation would program a robot to be so damned grumpy and whether he'd been saddled with a personality proto-type…

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Kurogane leaned back into his towel. Surely this was paradise, if ever he had known it. The warm, salty air filled his nostrils as he dug his fingers into the sand. The hot sun baked the shimmering white beach around him, its rays bouncing upward to dance off of his smiling face.

This world was beautiful, hot, and the perfect excuse to don the black Speedo he had picked up god-knows-how-many worlds back.

He inhaled deeply as the warmth enveloped his already golden, muscular build.

This truly was paradise.

The pale jumble of arms and legs huddled beneath their umbrella was feeling less sanguine.

"Can we please go back?" it whined, wiping away the considerable number of sweat beads that had formed above its eyes.

"Hnn?" the ninja replied, his eyes wandering slowly toward the blond, striped mess wrapping in upon itself under the shade.

"It's so…_hot!_" Fay whined, curling his legs up under his striped tank top. His forehead, nose, and shoulders had already blistered under an angry shade of fuchsia. The pink ice-blended drink melting in his hand did little to cool his face as he pressed the glass against his cheek. Unable to get comfortable, the magician extended his legs again, the dry, unforgiving warmth of the sun being preferable to the hot, sticky rub of his thighs under the shirt. He frowned. The beach was pretty, sure, but how much of this heat was he supposed to endure?

This truly was hell.

He wrinkled his nose, forcing the edges of the sloppy white sun block triangle painted there into his eyes.

"Maah! Kuro-tan! Pleeeease! Can we go in?"

"No." Kurogane rolled onto his stomach, happy to have the upper-hand for once. "This is the best vacation I've had in a while."

Fay wasn't about to deny the ninja his well-deserved relaxation. "Would you mind if I went in then? Mmmph!…" he added for emphasis.

Kurogane grinned into his arms. "You're just afraid you're less sexy than I am."

Fay moved to scratch his nose into his shoulder, and then stopped, not wanting to spread the goopy white substance to his bicep. "Kuro-sama has no chance of out-sexying me."

"Oh?" Kurogane rolled onto his side, the golden sun light highlighting every ripple of his physique from tooth to toenail.

"Of course," the magician replied, stroking his nose tentatively to be sure the sun block was still in place. "How should I put this…" he paused, devilish flame lighting up his eyes, "Which would you prefer: a fuzzy, loveable puppy, or one of those bald, yipping, angry miniature dogs who bite anyone within a 3-foot radius?"

"Look, just because you have a back like a Labrador retriever doesn't mean you're sexier than me."

"No, but it certainly doesn't hurt. Especially when coupled with the angry, yippy part."

"Who's angry and yippy?!" Kurogane barked.

"Oh my! The puppy is using his big-boy voice!"

"Hmph." Kurogane studied the huddled lump of sunburnt mage under the umbrella and choked back a chuckle. Even he couldn't deny how utterly pathetic the blond looked baking on the beach. "Yeah, sure, go on back. I'm staying a little longer."

"Oh thank gods," Fay sighed. He stood up and peeled his shirt away from his sweat-soaked back.

"Everyone knows well-muscled men only look sexier after a day in the sun."

"You have such limited notions of 'sexy' Kuro-puu."

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Syaoran scanned the street in search of a place to buy lunch. He had already scoured the shelves of two bookstores in the vain hope of finding information regarding the splitting off of fathers/clones from his person, but had been sorely disappointed. The interests of this country's citizens may have ranged from Hello Kitty to incredibly graphic smut, but a veritable desert of literature stretched between these two extremes, littered with only the occasional Hello-Kitty-graphic-smut crossover for scenery.

"Your nose is bleeding," the persacom informed him.

"Thanks, Kotoko," he replied, wiping at his face. A sandwich and a stiff drink were definitely in order after the last novel he had flipped through. Possibly a cigarette as well.

He drifted off absentmindedly toward the smell of burning tobacco. It led him toward a noisy street café, buzzing away with the chatter of late afternoon patrons. He stopped walking just as absentmindedly as he had started and stared toward a table just inside the café's fence.

The table's lone occupant was a dark-haired, middle-aged man squinting carefully at a book through thin oval glasses. He paused to take a long drag off of the cigarette hanging between his lips, then carefully tapped it onto the ashtray.

Syaoran started. Surely…

The man looked up, suddenly aware he had an audience. A warm smile spread across his lips.

"Seishiro?"

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Kurogane returned to their room a few hours later feeling refreshed. Normally he despised lazing about with nothing to do, but he was more than willing to make an exception for a few hours spent relaxing on a beach. Especially if it meant he got to prance around in a Speedo.

The first thing that struck him as he entered their suite was the sound of the alarm clock going off. The second was the arctic blast of air pulled toward the closing door. He shrieked, simultaneously attempting to cover as much of his exposed torso as possible while ensuring that his testicles had not retreated permanently into his abdomen.

"IT'S TIME FOR THE WAKEY-WAKEY EXCERCISES!"

"NO IT IS GODDAMN WELL NOT!" he bellowed.

_TWEET!_

_TWEET!_

"SUMOMO! ALARM OFF!!"

The diminutive persacom pulled the whistle from between her lips and saluted. "Aye!"

Kurogane braced himself as the tiny pink blur rushed toward him and leaped toward his leg. She climbed haphazardly up his frame to perch on his shoulder. "What does Master Kurogane want to do today?"

"Get the hell off me!"

"Oooh scary!" Sumomo cried as she bounced off his shoulder and ran to hide under the couch.

Kurogane steeled himself against the cold. When this failed, he grabbed the afghan hanging over the sofa to cover himself. His eyes narrowed as they turned toward the window.

The mage was hunched forward, forehead resting on the air conditioning unit.

The ninja frowned as he noted ice crystals forming in the blonde hair.

"Climate control OFF!" he barked.

The air conditioner unit whirred to a halt.

"Window open!"

The top pane of glass slid upward.

Kurogane peeled the mage away from the grate. Blue eyes opened slowly.

Fay grinned. "Sorry, I must have fallen asleep…"

"Only you could sleep in this frozen hell hole…especially with that pink thing dancing all around."

Fay was confused. "Mokona must have set it…"

"Hmph."

Fay grinned and planted a quick kiss on the ninja's lips. "We should order room-service for dinner!"

Kurogane flexed his fingers and realized they had lost all feeling in short time since he had entered the glacial suite. "No."

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

Seishiro was concerned that his young friend was enjoying his MLT a bit too much. True, the mutton was nice and lean and certainly worthy of a lip-smack or two, but the glazed-over eyes and drips of saliva falling from the corners of the kid's mouth were…unnerving. "Maybe we should go get a drink…" he suggested.

Syaoran set his sandwich down. He was going to need a cigarette first.

Seishiro carefully proffered his pack. He had never seen the kid smoke before, but then, he had never seen him so into a sandwich before either…

Syaoran carefully lit the cigarette and inhaled.

Seishiro braced himself; certain the kid would lurch over the railing to puke at any second. After a few seconds, however, he found himself impressed by the smooth in-and-out drags Syaoran was managing.

Something was wrong. The goodie-two-shoes kid should not be sucking down tobacco like it was candy.

Surely even the most graphic Hello-Kitty-smut crossover novels could not be _that_ good.

Could they?

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

"Turn left here!" Sumomo chirped, pointing down a dusky street.

Kurogane turned his head to glare at the persacom gripping onto his shirt collar. "Do you have a setting that doesn't make me grind my teeth?"

"Oooh scary!"

"So grumpy," Fay chuckled, catching Sumomo as she leapt from the ninja's shoulder to his own. "You _were_ the one who wanted to go out to eat, and she's so handy with directions!" He patted the smiling persacom on the head.

"We're going right," the ninja announced, not about to let his well-honed sense of direction be one-upped by a pink-haired dancing doll.

"Warning! Warning! You're heading into the main shopping district! Prepare to be approached!"

Neither of the duo could possibly have prepared for the lighting-fast assault of the perfume vendors, but Fay was fairly certain that the perfume vendors had not anticipated the ninja's lightning-fast temper either. The speed with which the vendors scattered was nothing out of the ordinary, but the ragged impressions they left in the wall upon impact left the magician staring, gape-jawed.

"This is why I'm sexier. No one likes violent men."

"I'm not violent. I'm 'sexy-with-an-air-of-danger.'"

"You should explain that to the security guards heading this way."

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

Syaoran was well into his fourth whiskey. Seishiro had always brought out the worst in him, but tonight the older man's influence seemed to be especially strong.

"So seriously, you're still with the moe princess?"

"She's not moe – and yes, I'm still with her."

"Looks a lot like your mom, hmm?"

"Well…"

"Not that there's anything wrong with that. Your mom was hot."

"Well, yeah, but…wait, what?"

Seishiro only paused. "You've got all their memories, huh?"

"Yep."

"That's gotta be awkward."

"I try not to think about it."

"Hmm…so," Seishiro shifted, leaning on his elbow to leer more effectively across the table. "Who would you say is better in the sack, your mom or the princess?"

"…"

"I'm going to have to go with your princess, myself, but that's mostly because I haven't seen your mom in ages."

Syaoran signaled to the bartender that he was ready for a fifth.

"Oh come on kid, I'm only taking the piss."

Syaoran sighed.

"Your mother was much better."

"Why do I even bother coming out with you?"

"Because it gives you a chance to act like an asshole in public and blame it on someone else."

"Ah, yes. That's it."

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

"I told you you could never out-sexy me."

"It's just a Kleenex sample, they were handing them out to everyone."

"Yes, but I got three packs, and Kuro-sama didn't get any."

"I didn't want any."

"I also got a hug."

"From a panhandler who tried to steal your wallet!"

"He wasn't trying to steal my wallet; he was trying to squeeze my ass!"

"That's even worse."

"Either way, it was your fault we got kicked out of the restaurant."

"We weren't kicked out, we were asked to leave."

"Because Kuro-sama smashed a pitcher of water."

"Tch! It was an accident! My fingers are still numb from the sub-zero temperature you had the room set at."

"_And_ because the waitress left her phone number on the napkin."

"_And_ because…wait, she did?"

Fay smiled and grabbed the ninja's hand. "Oh gods, you're right, they're like icicles."

"I told you, I'm 'sexy-with-an-air-of-danger', not a needlessly violent douche-bag."

"How _could_ I ever doubt you?"

"Hmph. Let's go in here and get a drink."

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

Syaoran was beyond happy to see two familiar faces enter the bar and waved them over a little too enthusiastically. Seishiro was less excited about the new additions to their group and wrinkled his nose as the magician and the ninja sat down at the table.

"Are you wearing ladies perfume?"

"There was an incident earlier," the blond one explained.

"Anyway…" Seishiro continued, turned away from the rosewater-scented duo with a suspicious glance, "Syaoran was just informing me that he's been entirely faithful to his moe princess back home, and I just flat out don't believe him."

Fay raised an eyebrow. "Why? He's a good kid. And aren't _you_ the one chasing a single lover through different dimensions??"

"Of course, of course," Seishiro waved the question away. "You know…it'd be nice to drink champagne every night, but sometimes Boone's Farm is all you can get your hands on."

Kurogane snorted.

"Why are _you_ snorting at that?" the magician demanded, glaring over the table at the ninja.

"It was a funny expression!"

"Well, I don't know what 'Boone's Farm' is, and I don't think I want to. I'm going to find the juke box." The wizard pushed away from the table and stomped toward the back of the building.

"Sumomo will come too!"

Seishiro snickered. "I don't think he wants to know either…"

Syaoran eyed the ninja carefully. "Did you guys have a fight, Kurogane?"

Kurogane crossed his arms over his head and leaned back. "Nah, he's just pissy because I won't concede that he's sexier than me. He'll get over it."

"He is quite pretty," Seishiro noted casually, watching the mage's backside as he skipped toward the juke box.

"And he's always getting chased by well…everyone," Syaoran added.

"Look," Kurogane spat, "I'm not getting into this with you two. Sexual assault is _not_ a compliment. _I_ am the sexiest member of our group. End of conversation."

"It isn't?" Seishiro looked genuinely confused.

"NO!" the ninja growled and turned toward his younger companion, "And if this is where you're getting relationship advice from, it's no wonder you're terrified of women and can't get it up when you're at home!"

"I-I can…I'm n-not…" Syaoran stuttered.

"Well, that was out of line," Seishiro grunted, straitening his back. "I give _perfectly_ good relationship advice! Plotting to kill someone while toying with their emotions and then murdering their sister is a _proven_ recipe for coital bliss!"

Kurogane stared. While he was willing to acknowledge the possibility that he had been pursuing "coital bliss" in a less than efficient manner for his entire life, he definitely was _not_ willing to walk the Path of the Sociopath to find out. He _was_ willing to have another drink to drown out any doubts on this matter, however.

"So here's my real question," Seishiro slurred, leaning over the table to look Syaoran directly in the eye. "Your dad is technically your clone, which means you should have identical DNA. BUT, he apparently knocked up your mom at some point to bring you into the world, so you should have half of her DNA as well. So, explain to me how you can have half of your mother's DNA while still being biologically identical to your father."

"I, well, um…"

"What's DNA?" the ninja demanded.

"DNA is short for Deoxyribonucleic acid," the purple haired persacom perched on the table began, "It's composed of four bases; Adenine, Cytosine, Guanine, and Thymine; which are attached to sugars and held together by hydrogen bonds. The sequence of the bases codes for different proteins…"

Kurogane clapped a hand over the robot's mouth. "…Kid?"

"It's your genetic make-up."

"…Doc?"

"It's the stuff in your cells that makes you _you_. It's why when you cut your face you don't grow a new part that looks like someone else. You get half from your mom and half from your dad. But Syaoran here has all the same DNA as his father…which really shouldn't be possible."

Kurogane tried very hard to keep his eyes from crossing while he wondered just _what_, exactly, a "cell" was doing on his face. He had spent the night in plenty during his life-time, but was having a difficult time visualizing just _where_ the barred doors would sit between his nose and eyes.

"I have two theories on this," Seishiro continued, his good eye squinting as the alcohol took further control of his motor functions. "The simplest solution says that your dad and mom were closely related and you were just lucky enough to be the happy little in-bred-zygote-who-could and ended up with the half of your mother's DNA that complemented your father's perfectly. I don't know much about your family, but this would certainly explain the messed-up set of genes that Wata-hoosie kid ended up with. Recessive defects run rampant in in-bred families."

"Recessa-what?"

"Let's talk about something else…" Syaoran began, but was cut off by a loud burst of feedback from the overhead speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Blue Parrot!" a disembodied voice bellowed. "Tonight is Thursday, which means it's time for our weekly amateur karaoke competition to begin! All tap beers are half price for the next three hours, so drink up and step up to the microphone!"

"Oh god," Kurogane grunted, slamming his cup onto the table and jumping to his feet. "We have to leave." He was fairly certain that the higher thought-processing centers of his brain would shut down completely if he was forced to listen to "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" one more time.

Syaoran agreed, though his personal fears were more centered around anything originally recorded by the Village People. "Where's Fay?"

Kurogane looked around. The bar was packed with patrons, most of whom were easily identified as tourists by their brightly colored shirts and mismatched fanny-packs. A crowd was starting to form near the stage; a loud clatter of clinking glasses and applause breaking out as the first competitors stepped forward.

"Why don't you have your persacom here call the other one?" Seishiro suggested.

"Right," Syaoran agreed, motioning to Kotoko while still scanning the crowd.

"Anyway, back to what I saying…"

Syaoran gulped his drink. "Right. And what's option number two?"

"_I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday. Parking by the lake and there was not another car in sight…"_

Syaoran's eyes grew wide in terror as he watched Kurogane's neck inflate. If the noise from the crowd had been a few decibels lower he was certain he would have been able to hear the ninja's teeth grinding in time to the song.

Seishiro continued, oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the ninja's festering rage. "Option two is basically the same thing, except that the _only_ differences between your parents' genes are the X and Y chromosomes."

Syaoran snapped his head back to Seishiro, suddenly disinterested in the shade of crimson blossoming onto his friend's face. "So I'm still the happy little in-bred-zygote-who-could?!"

"That's never been in question."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a real asshole?"

"Many times, my dear, many times. But what I'm really saying here is: have you considered the very real possibility that you and the moe princess are well on the way to making little three-headed babies?"

"_Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark niiiiiiiiight…I can see paradise by the dashboard light."_

"We have to get him out of here…" Syaoran looked nervously at Kurogane, who had worryingly added an eye-brow tic into his bodily repertoire of snarling, grinding, and inflating.

"He's not answering," Kotoko announced, turning toward Syaoran. "Would you like me to dial again?"

"No…" Syaoran trailed off. He wondered if he would be able to get Kurogane out of the bar without Fay in tow. Previous experience said "no," but previous experience was also littered with the corpses of evenings ruined by burst blood vessels in the ninja's forehead from trying to restrain himself.

"Here." Seishiro passed a pair of headphones and a book across the table. "Distract yourself. I'm not ready to leave yet."

Kurogane eyed the device suspiciously, then gave in and plugged the buds into his ears. After a moment's fiddling with the controls, he managed to find something suitably angry to pump into his head at full volume. He shot Seishiro a final death glare and flipped open the book.

Syaoran gaped at Seishiro. "That was…uncharacteristically nice of you…"

"Not really," the dark haired man grinned. "Apart from what he's playing now, that thing is entirely filled with Justin Bieber tracks."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Say, isn't that your friend there?"

Syaoran followed the finger pointing toward the stage.

_Fuck._

Kurogane was going to kill him.

Syaoran was fairly certain that the magician had entered the bar wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He was absolutely positive that Kurogane would have been too embarrassed to be seen in public with a man wearing a ripped denim miniskirt and hot pink fishnet tights. He had no idea where the beehive wig had come from.

"_On nights…like this…when the world's a bit…amiss, and the lights go down across the trailer park…"_

Kurogane's nose shifted half an inch higher on his face as the track pumping through the headphones changed. He mashed a few buttons on the controls before giving up and ripping the buds out of his ears. He pounded them down onto the table and shot an angry glare at Seishiro. "What _is_ this shit?" he demanded, his ears pricking up as they registered the sounds coming from the stage.

Syaoran braced himself. Seishiro smiled.

Kurogane rolled his eyes and went back to the book.

"Well that was anti-climatic," Seishiro mumbled, swigging a bit too eagerly from his cup.

"_I put on some make-up. Turn on the 8-track. I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf…"_

"Hmph," one red eye glared up from the book. "I've seen this act before, and I can guarantee you I'll see it again. Right now, I'm more interested in the…_edits_…you've made to this book. Tell me, do you have something against western names?" An evil glint flashed in the ninja's eyes.

"Huh?" Syaoran was confused.

"He's crossed out every mention of 'Bella' and 'Edward' and replaced them with 'Seishiro' and 'Subaru.'"

Seishiro only smiled. "Trust me, it's a vast improvement."

It was Syaoran's turn to roll his eyes. "You've haven't gotten far enough – he's also added in several chapters analyzing and insulting Kamui's taste in leather chaps."

"….why?"

"It's a terrible book."

On stage, Fay slipped the final wig of the set onto his head and shook its long blond locks around him. As he launched into the bridge, he silently cursed himself for his choice of platform stiletto boots; this particular series of jumps and kicks had a high potential for botched landings. Grinning as the ball of his left foot came down for the last time on the stage, he paused to catch his breath as Sumomo lead the audience through the refrain. He had to admit he was impressed with the persacom's ability to mimic his every move while sitting on his head. He squinted toward the entrance, where he had left his companions earlier and drew in a sharp breath.

Kurogane stood hunched over the table, snarling lips pulling back into his cheeks, his fists bearing down onto the cheap Formica covering. Seishiro was bent forward as well, his cheeks inflated and red as he huffed angrily at the ninja.

The wizard kept his eyes on the table as he launched into a final repetition of the refrain. Barely two words had escaped from his mouth when the ambiance of the bar was split apart by a hoarse battle-cry.

"Listen to _ME_, asshole! _VAMPIRES DON'T FUCKING SPARKLE_!"

Fay leapt from the stage as Seishiro's fist connected with Kurogane's jaw, and darted through the confused crowd toward the table. He reached his companions just as the table was upended and lifted over the ninja's head. Without a second thought, he conjured a string of characters and bound the table to the ceiling before it could come crashing down on the bespectacled man's face.

Kurogane growled, spinning toward the mage. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm not going to pri…" Fay began, but was silenced as Syaoran's foot slammed into Seishiro's face with a loud CRACK.

"Holy shit, I think the kid broke his nose."

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

The three men flung themselves into a darkened alley to catch their breaths.

"I…think…Syaoran…out-sexied us both…tonight…" Fay panted, yanking away the thigh-high boots.

"I thought…you said…no one liked…violent…men…?" the ninja huffed.

"Violent, no. But everyone likes a man who can shut down a raving lunatic with one kick to the head."

"No…shit," the ninja agreed, ruffling Syaoran's hair and grinning. "Although you weren't bad yourself. Can't believe you leapt off the stage without breaking those heels."

Fay smirked. "And Kuro-sama's self-restraint was particularly admirable…well…at least until you almost bashed Seishiro's head in with the table. That air-of-danger was a full-on hurricane."

"Not to bust up the love-fest," Syaoran said steadily, patting his shirt to make sure the persacoms were still safely attached to his buttons, "but we should probably get out of here before those sirens get any closer."

Fay straightened up, tossing the boots to the ground. "You're right. I think I can manage something so no one will see or hear us…"

Alone, locked in a darkened room, Mokona plotted revenge. Someone was going to pay for leaving it out of this chapter...


	7. Omake

**The Super-Special, Moderately Smutty, Extraordinarily Cracked-Out Omake**

_I say "Moderately Smutty" because there's nothing graphic – either in terms of violence or sex. However, please be warned there are lots of implied slash-pairings, patently unfunny porn titles, pissy academics, and foul language galore. You can safely skip this little bonus feature if these things offend your delicate sensibilities…_

_Dedicated to my darling classmates who had to suffer through the latest annual conference. Hahaha – I got to give this year's a miss! _**:-P**

* 0 * 0 * 0 * 0 *

"_Kurger-burger!" Fay skipped happily over to the lanky ninja._

_He grinned, staring into Kurogane's eyes and briefly wondered whether the ninja was angry, bored, or happy to see him. This was worrisome, as he was usually good at reading facial expressions. He stared back briefly into his own eyes and found only expressionless blue orbs looking back. He focused back on the blank red eyes._

"_Kuro-buro, when did your ears get so big?" He wondered aloud, making a point to stand very still and allow only the tiniest movement of his lips._

"_Huh?"_

"_Oh well, let's drink!"_

"_There's no alcohol in this world..." Kurogane also stood very still. Behind the ninja's headdress the wizard wasn't even able to see his lips form the words._

"_What?" Fay gasped audibly, but remained motionless. "Why?"_

"_Because this is a G-rated universe with a piss-poor production budget…"_

"**NOOOO!"**

The sound of his own scream woke the wizard out of his vicious slumber. His hands flailed, grasping onto anything and everything they could find to blindly assess his surroundings while his eyes darted around the dark room, desperately trying to adjust to the low light. He relaxed as he felt his fingers intertwine with stiffly waxed hair.

The lamp on the bedside table snapped on. Fay turned his head to look into two red eyes squinting back at him – still heavy with sleep, but clearly narrowed mostly out of annoyance. He relaxed his fingers, leaving his hand to rest on the head, and exhaled deeply.

"What was it this time?" Kurogane grumbled, pushing himself up onto his elbows, "Gummy bears gnawing off their own limbs? Cannibal frogs performing satanic ritual sacrifice in a biology classroom? Or maybe the ever popular King Ashura dancing the Macarena in a thong?"

Fay flopped back down onto his pillow. "It was so much worse!" he whined. "We were stuck in some poorly animated world where everyone barely moved and all I could see was long pans across shiny dead-fish eyes. And you were all tall and gangly and had a face like a monkey!"

"Sounds…awful."

"And there was no alcohol."

Kurogane chuckled. He was somewhat relieved that this was what was passing for nightmares in the mage's world these days. He rolled onto his side and slung a protective arm across the blond's shoulders. "That's the worst _ever_."

Fay frowned, suspecting that the ninja was not absorbing the full bed-wetting-terror that this particular nightmare had stirred in him. "I called you 'Kurger-burger.'"

This produced the desired effect; Fay winced as he felt the arm around him tense and shudder.

"Let's never speak of this again."

It was Fay's turn to chuckle. "No, of course not. What time is it?"

"Well, that damned pink thing hasn't danced across my face yet, so it must be before 8. Just go back to sleep."

Fay exhaled and burrowed his way deeper into the ninja's chest. "Reset it for 9 or 10, will you? Let's have a lazy day while Syaoran's at that conference."

Kurogane grunted his agreement. "Oy, Sumomo…noon."

"Aye!"

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Syaoran made his way through the hotel's conference center, weaving in and out of the crowd to avoid knocking the precariously perched persacom and manjuu from his shoulders. He had noticed the announcements for the archaeology conference earlier in the week, and had been eagerly looking forward to the chance to reclaim a piece of his old life. Well, reclaim a piece of _one_ of his old lives, at any rate. He had no idea exactly what "Paleo-archaeology" involved, but had been transfixed by the beautiful displays of fossil bones so artfully laid out in the lobby.

He picked a discarded event schedule up from the floor and was pleased when he was able to read it. Lectures and poster sessions had been divided up by topic; there seemed to be at least four going on at any given time. Unfamiliar with most of the topics, he decided to head toward the closest room to take in a lecture.

"Hey kid." Syaoran stopped as he felt a hand grip his arm. "This is for conference attendees only. Go play outside."

"But I _am_ here for the conference," Syaoran replied, confused.

"Then go check in and get your nametag. People pay good money to be here and we can't have little kids wandering around and disturbing things."

"Right…" He hadn't counted on registration. He turned sullenly to head back to the lobby.

"Wait, Syaoran!" Mokona chirped. "We just have to get you a nametag! We can borrow one from someone else!"

"I think you mean steal," Kotoko muttered. "We'll have to dress him up a bit too. He doesn't really fit in with the crowd."

Syaoran had to agree. He wasn't sure he owned any clothes that would allow him to slip innocuously through the sea of suspenders, bowties, and long patterned skirts flooding the conference hall.

"Yay! Shopping and stealing! Two of Mokona's 108 secret talents!"

"Seriously, Mokona…What was that witch _on_ when she made you?"

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

"IT'S TIME FOR THE WAKEY-WAKEY EXERCISES!"

_TWEET!_

_TWEET!_

Halfway through his second set of side-bends, Kurogane wondered how the little pink harem girl managed to trick him, and _only_ him, into doing this every morning.

Fay giggled to himself as he peeked through the drapes. "Hey…what happened to noon, Sumomo?"

Sumomo paused and removed the whistle from her lips. "There were two alarms set; one for 8 am and one for noon. Sumomo will wake you again at noon!"

Kurogane grunted and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Don't bother."

Fay frowned. He had been looking forward to a long, relaxing morning spent in bed, but he hadn't planned on enjoying it alone. He furrowed his eye brows and began to work his lips into a sultry pout.

"Don't start that," Kurogane grunted, winking at the magician. "I know a _much_ better way to spend the morning."

The pout disappeared. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, but it's going to require breakfast first. For energy."

"Kuro-tan, you had better not be talking about fighting…"

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

"There…and…there!" Mokona exclaimed clipping the purple striped bowtie to Syaoran's collar.

"Perfect!"

Syaoran eyed his reflection in the mirror. He wasn't particularly fond of the green elbow patches on the sweater, but the horn-rimmed glasses were a nice touch. He wasn't entirely convinced he would fit in with conference goers, however. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," Kotoko answered, straightening the shirt collar sticking up from under the sweater. "This is the official uniform of the Paleo-archaeological Society."

"Okay…if you're sure." He stumbled out of the changing room and deposited a handful of pink pencils on the front counter. The cashier smiled and handed him what appeared to be an oversized jelly pacifier in the shape of a cat's face in change.

"What _is_ this thing?"

The cashier only smiled.

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

"Kuro-rin!" Fay trilled from the kitchenette. "I need the strainer! Can you get it for me?"

"Where is it?"

"Last I saw it was in Syaoran's room. Mokona was using it as a bed."

Kurogane grunted as he barged into the kid's room. There had better not be any little white fur bits in his breakfast this morning or so help him…

He spotted the metal strainer on the bedside table, partially buried by a stack of books. He smirked to himself; the kid _always_ had his head in a book. He admired the young man's dedication, even though he much preferred manga to the thick, leather-bound volumes Syaoran seemed to consume endlessly. He shifted the strainer out from under the pile of books, delicately attempting to dislodge it without tipping the pile onto the floor and failed miserably.

He sighed as he bent to pick up the clutter. One, two, three…that should be all of them. …Four? Kurogane frowned as he turned the fourth volume over in his hand. The strainer fell to the floor as he began agitatedly flipping through the pages.

"Kuro…?" Fay called again, his attention still focused on the beets twirling around the blender at lightning speed. "I still need that-"

The strainer crashed onto the counter. Startled, the magician spun around.

The ninja's eyes were half-hidden by the forward tilt of his head and drooping hair, but Fay could see they were wide enough to expose the whites around red irises. Their gaze was locked onto the object gripped between white knuckles.

"Have. You. _SEEN_. This?"

Fay quickly wiped his hands on his frilly pink apron and took the book. As he leafed through the pages, his expression changed from amused to alarmed as the color drained from his face.

"Oh my god! You _can't do that_ with a ping-pong ball!"

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

"That group, over there," Kotoko pointed toward a gathering of younger looking conference goers gathered around an ashtray.

"Why them?" Syaoran asked, feeling uneasy.

"Because they're piss drunk, and it will be easier to convince them to give you a name tag than someone who actually cares about the conference."

"They're drunk? But it's eight thirty in the morning!"

"My sensors are accurate within one thousand feet."

"Well…okay." Syaoran approached the group hesitantly. "Good morning." He smiled brightly.

"Awwwwwww," a particularly tall girl squealed, bending over to embrace him. The alcoholic fumes spewing out from her lips burned his eyes as he was completely enveloped. "Look! It's an undergrad! Sooo cute and untainted by higher education!"

"Huh?" Syaoran struggled to correct his balance.

"Don't go to grad school, kid," a short man piped up. "It'll suck your soul out through your toes and not even give you the courtesy of a reach-ahead."

"A what?"

"I think he's attempting innuendo," Kotoko supplied.

"Oh. Well, I was actually just wondering if I could borrow one of your name tags…? I'd like to see the conference and…" He was cut off by five fists pumping toward him, each gripping a name tag.

"Thanks…"

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

Fay and Kurogane stood wordlessly in the kitchenette, eyes boring holes in one another. Every few seconds one would attempt to form a coherent sentence, only to fail miserably and release a quiet whimper instead. Five minutes passed. Then fifteen.

It was Kurogane who finally broke the silence. "I think you should talk to him."

"_ME_?" Fay squealed, finally finding his voice. "_You're_ his father, _you_ talk to him!"

"I am _not_ the kid's father, and I am sure as hell not talking to him about…._this_!" He shook the book for dramatic effect.

Fay exhaled, pushing his palms away from his chest as if to exorcise whatever demons had invaded his thoughts. "Ok, look. He's that age, he likes certain…_things_. However…_terrifying_ they might be, we should probably just put the book away and never let him know we saw it."

"I agree." He held the book out toward the wizard.

"You put it back, I'm not touching it again."

"I don't want to go back in there."

"You're a ninja. You're used to compromising positions."

"And you can…" Kurogane trailed off. His cerebral arguing centers seemed to have been slowed by the abuse they had just sustained. "Fine."

Fay splashed his face with cold water and returned his attention to the breakfast. Suddenly, he had an idea…

"Hey Kuro…what say we take a cue from our little pervert and try out the pay-per-view channels on the television…?"

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

Syaoran wound his way through the maze of presentation boards. Each one was plastered with a colorful oversized poster containing months and years of careful research, condensed into a few sloppily worded paragraphs and incomprehensible charts. He marveled at the shear amount of work on display as he ducked beneath waving arms and flying spittle.

"Now, identify the most nervous person in the room," Kotoko instructed.

Syaoran searched. He spotted…was that Masayoshi? The boy certainly appeared nervous at any rate.

"Okay, then what?"

"Now approach them in silence and stare at their poster for a full ten minutes. Do not say a word while you're doing this."

"And what happens at the end of the ten minutes?"

"Then you are to insult the poster's color scheme, demand to know why your work isn't cited, and ask them if they are a serious scientist."

"Where are you downloading this from, exactly?"

"This is all from the official Annual Meeting of the Paleo-Archaeology Society's etiquette page."

"I think we should go to a lecture instead…"

"You'll want to buy an umbrella first," Kotoko insisted.

"But it's sunny out…"

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

"Okay, so what is Kuro-sama in the mood for? We have 'Batman in Robin,' 'In Diana Jones and the Temple of Poon,' 'Miyuki-chan in Wonderland,' 'Backdoor Sluts 9…'"

"Anything. Sex is sex…" Kurogane paused, then added "But maybe no lesbians…"

Fay turned to face the ninja, faintly amused. "So sex is sex, except when it's lesbians?"

"Tch. You try having every single one of your…_intimate_ moments interrupted by them and get back to me."

"Ahhh…so that's how it is."

Kurogane sighed. "That's how it is. Except maybe 'Miyuki-chan' might still be okay…"

"So what you're saying is that you don't actually have something against lesbians, just the ones who walk in on you with your pants down."

"I have something against everyone who walks in on me with my pants down."

Fay rolled his eyes. "It's a wonder you ever get laid… Okay, well, let's try this one. XXXHotLick. Seems to have a bit of everything…'for the connoisseur' it says. You get comfy, I'll finish up breakfast."

Fay turned back to the kitchenette and proceeded to strain the pureed beets. He added some sugar to the juice and set it to the side. He needed oil to fry the eggs in. He knew he had added it to the list before he had sent Syaoran shopping the other morning…

He frowned as his eyes settled on the large glass jug of oil beside the counter. Why had the kid bought such a big bottle? Shuddering, he decided _that_ was a question best left unanswered. He lifted the heavy jug up to the counter and measured a small amount into a frying pan. He cracked the eggs, adjusted the flame, and set about arranging juice glasses on a tray.

He was halfway between the kitchenette and the sofa when an inhuman screech pierced his ears and threw him off-balance. He landed face-down in a puddle of bright red juice. "What the hell?" he demanded, getting to his feet. The sofa was ruined; sticky red lines trailed down Kurogane's face and dripped onto the upholstery.

"It's…it's…"

"Holy shit, is that _Doumeki_?"

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

"Now, raise your hand and ask a completely unrelated question."

"I don't think I want to be here anymore…"

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

The ninja and the wizard stared in horrified awe at the television.

"It must be his double in this world," Fay said quickly. "There's no way…"

"_Hello? You ordered a pizza?"_

"AHHHHH!" the pair screamed in unison.

"There's only ONE Watanuki! Only _ONE_! How the _HELL_ did this end up in this dimension?"

"It's produced by Sanrio MegaCorp. They have a very aggressive…"

"Yeah, yeah, we know already."

"_My, my. What are you two naughty boys doing alone in here?"_

"AHHHHH!"

"Turn it off! Turn! It! OFF! I already have nightmares of the Dimensional Bitch!" Kurogane shouted, desperately searching for the remote.

Fay sniffed the air. "Do you smell….oh my god! The eggs are burning!" He bolted up and ran for the stove.

"_This is Mokona's favorite bed-time story. Would you like to act out some of Mokona's favorite scenes?"_

"AHHHH! IT'S _THE BOOK_!"

Fay's grip on the skillet slipped, spattering the still crackling oil onto his arm. He dropped the pan, smashing his foot in the process. Howling in pain and now hopping on one foot, he flailed against the countertop, trying to steady himself. Having one hand firmly set on the edge, he groped with the other…

And found himself flat on his back on the tile floor, soaked in oil and surrounded by glass shards.

"Help…"

* 11 * 11 * 11 * 11 *

Karyobinga's sister had warned her against not studying for her college entrance exams. "You'll spend your life cleaning toilets, or worse – looking after someone's children."

Karyobinga was certain her sister was an idiot. Her job on the resort's housekeeping staff came with every benefit imaginable, _and_ three weeks paid vacation. Not only that, but guests were rarely in their rooms, so cleaning up after them was a piece of cake.

Also, this being a very posh resort, the guests tended to tip quite well.

Yes, Karyobinga's sister could suck it, or so she told herself as her persacom opened the lock to room 303.

She heard what appeared to be shouts, so she quietly called for permission to enter. When she received no response, she proceeded into the suite, anyway. Guests had an annoying habit of leaving their televisions on while they left for the day.

The television was indeed on. Apparently a nature documentary on a rare species of rabbit…or at least that's what she assumed from the quick motions of the black and white rabbits on screen. She reached for the remote to turn the television off.

It was then that the blood stained couch caught her attention. She gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth and spun to take in the full scene.

The two men oil wrestling on the kitchenette floor, also covered in blood, stared at her.

She screamed and ran for the door.

No job was worth this.

* 12 * 12 * 12 * 12 *

Syaoran attempted to push his way toward the exit, but was held back by the impressively large crowd that had formed. Deciding he could really do without another patched elbow being slung in his face, he opted to hold his position near the middle of the crowd.

"You can't possibly call that piece of crap fossil the 'missing link!'" an angry woman fumed.

"Fine, it's the 'found link,' then!" the man on the podium shouted back.

"It's not a link at all – it's just another crappy Adapid!"

"How _dare_ you insult my _Darwinius_? This is the most complete fossil found for this time period and our analysis clearly shows…"

"Your analysis is shite too!" another man chimed in.

"Bollocks!"

"I'll show you bollocks!"

A woman Syaoran assumed to be the moderator of the lecture session tapped her microphone. "Before things get out of hand," she began, "I SAID _BEFORE_, DR. SUMERAGI! I propose we settle this debate by adhering to the Society's pre-set standards."

The crowd cheered.

"Complainants will take the stage. Each will be provided with a graduated Erlenmeyer flask into which they will release their scientific criticism. Points will be awarded for most volume, widest stream, and best distance."

The quarreling archaeologists climbed to the stage.

"Oh...no, no, no, no," Syaoran muttered as they began loosening their belts. "What the hell is going on here…?"

"Scientific progress," Kotoko answered, matter-of-factly. "I did warn you to bring an umbrella."

"We're leaving." Syaoran began to valiantly force his way through the shouting crowd. "Where is Mokona?"

* 13 * 13 * 13 * 13 *

Kurogane finished bandaging the magician's arm and stepped back to inspect his work. "I suppose this hasn't been the best day we've had here…"

"Definitely not, but at least the police didn't arrest us."

"I think it helped to convince them we weren't wrestling in blood when you forced them to drink the beet juice."

"I'm just glad they were able to get it out of the couch – usually that stuff stains permanently."

"You would know best."

Fay smiled and leaned back into the ninja's lap. "At least our son isn't the sociopathic pervert we were afraid he was."

Kurogane grimaced. "Maybe not, but I don't think I can ever look at that manjuu the same way again…"

"No," Fay quickly agreed, "definitely not." He shuddered.

"You cold?"

"No, really warm actually. We should turn the air conditioner on."

"Maybe later," the ninja murmured, head tilting back onto the sofa. "I'm too beat too move right now."

"Me, too." Fay cupped Kurogane's face in his hands and gave him a small peck on the lips. He rubbed their cheeks together for a moment, before lowering his head to rest on the ninja's shoulder. Within seconds he was snoring softly.

* 14 * 14 * 14 * 14 *

Syaoran searched the lecture hall frantically for his rabbit-eared companion. He had no idea _why_ fate was abusing him so badly recently, but he was fairly sure that he didn't deserve this.

"Ready, begin!"

"Look!" Kotoko pointed toward the stage.

"I really don't want to…"

"It's Mokona."

Syaoran reluctantly lifted his head toward the stage just in time to see Mokona's mouth open wide and a tidal rush of liquid spew forth into the container on the stage. The other complainants stopped and stared.

"That's the biggest stream I've ever seen!" several gasped, kneeling down before their rabbit-eared god.

"All hail our new Guru!"

"What's going on now…?" Syaoran whined.

"It seems Mokona has won the yearly pissing contest. Which is odd, because it cheated – that's clearly just pond water in the glass."

"Thank god for that…"

"It will now be allowed to dictate the proceedings of the remainder of the conference."

"I liked archaeology a lot better in Clow Country."

* 15 * 15 * 15 * 15 *

It was late when Syaoran returned to the suite. He was worn out from chasing Mokona around the remaining lectures of the conference, but was happy it had at least seen fit to share its free food and liquor with him. Kotoko opened the lock on the door, and the trio stumbled in.

The living space connecting the bedrooms was dark, except for the light cast by the television. The air conditioner whirred away beneath the window. Syaoran could make out Kurogane's profile sitting on the sofa as Mokona bounced off his shoulder and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind it. The ninja was wrapped in mutliple brightly colored blankets, but clearly was still shivering from the cold. Fay was curled up asleep, his head resting on the ninja's thigh.

Kurogane looked up. "How was the conference?"

"Don't ask. Scientific progress now goes 'Puu.' What did you two do today?" Syaoran lifted the magician's feet to sit down on the other side of the sofa, dropping them back into his lap as he sunk into the cushions.

"Don't ask. 'Puu' is not a sound I _ever_ want to hear from that manjuu again."

Fay snickered and rubbed his eyes. He wrapped his arm around Kurogane's waist and bent his knees up to hug Syaoran with his legs. "No more talking. This day needs a sweet, affectionate ending so the people reading won't be completely freaked out."

Syaoran couldn't agree more. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders and drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 7

**These next couple of chapters are a prime example of what happens when you take a joke too far… They started off as me being lazy and attempting to riff off of Alice/Miyuki-chan in Wonderland while I was supposed to be hard at work making slides and counting nerve endings in monkey feet and generally making the world a more scienteriffic place…and then I caught the "Supa Crud™" and spent a week in bed…with this being the result. **

**My deepest apologies to Lewis Carroll – I shall never again try to out-WTF you; you were obviously far stranger and had access to far better drugs than I do… (Oh, and also for stealing your plot and a decent amount of your text [for continuity of course…])**

* 0 * 0 * 0 * 0 *

_Chapitre 7: Bizzaro World_

_The moment you said "Don't eat the brownie" was promptly forgotten…_

Syaoran was beginning to get very tired of sitting by his companions on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice he had peeped into the book Kurogane was reading, but it had nothing but pictures and conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Syaoran "with only pictures and conversation?"

So he was considering in his own mind (as well as he could, for the day made him feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of pulling the legs off of a grasshopper would be worth the trouble of actually getting up and catching the grasshopper, when suddenly a White Rabbit-Eared Mokona with a pink jewel on its forehead ran close by him.

There was nothing so VERY remarkable in that; nor did Syaoran think it so VERY much out of the way to hear the White Rabbit-eared Mokona squeal to itself "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!" (when he thought it over afterwards, it occurred to him that it was _very_ strange that the ninja wasn't following in hot pursuit, as he was usually wont to do); but when the Mokona actually SPEWED A BOX OF CHOCOLATE FROSTED POP-TARTS OUT OF ITS MOUTH, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Syaoran started to his feet, for he suddenly realized that was _his_ box of Pop-Tarts and the little bastard had stolen it. He ran after it, and was just in time to see the little beast pop down a large Mokona-hole under the hedge.

In another moment down went Syaoran after it, pissed as hell that his prized snack food was disappearing just as the munchies were rearing their ugly head.

The Mokona-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped so that Syaoran slammed ass-over-teakettle into the walls as he fell.

As Syaoran fell, he passed volumes and volumes of graphic smutty novels displayed proudly on well lit shelves. Random pink objects emblazoned with Hello Kitty faces twinkled as they zoomed past his head and he wondered briefly if he had actually fallen into the White Rabbit-Eared Mokona's mouth instead of down a simple Mokona hole. He caught a small bottle as it whizzed past his ears; it was labeled "Extra-strength Pomade," and much to his chagrin he found spiky black hairs sticking up from the wax inside. Disgusted, he tossed the bottle over his shoulder, intending to put as much distance as possible between himself and the offensive object, but instead of hurdling away into the blackness, the bottle bounced once off of a large bed backed by the Feline Harbinger of Doom, and landed gracefully on a tabletop next to a jar of pickled beets.

Down, down, down. Syaoran began to fret that he had been swallowed whole by the White Rabbit-Eared Mokona and would presently be dropped into a new dimension without his comrades. He decided that this was unlikely, as he had no recollection of ever passing through this particular space before.

He hit the floor with a graceless thud and rubbed his elbow. That was going to leave a mark…

The White Rabbit-Eared Mokona turned back toward where he lay in a heap and gave a short yelp as it realized it had been followed. It looked its pursuer in the eye, stuck out its tongue, and made an impressively rude gesture for a creature with no fingers before disappearing around a corner. Syaoran leapt to his feet and started after it, only to find himself in a long, dark corridor with only a single, Mokona-sized exit.

Cursing, Syaoran kicked at the ground and was surprised when his leg connected with a small table he had not previously noticed. On its top sat a small gold key and a bottle labeled "Drink Me." He snatched the key and forced it into the miniature door, pleased when the lock clicked and he was able to pull it open. Forcing his head through, he gasped in surprise to see a legion of scantily clad women parading about and engaging in consensual activities that he had only read about in rather graphic collections of Hello Kitty Smut previously.

He ripped his head from the opening and fumbled for the bottle, which he sniffed tentatively. He wasn't fond of the idea of drinking from unlabelled bottles, but the liquid inside had the unmistakable aroma of a good single malt whiskey and he always enjoyed a nice, stiff drink after viewing that amount of cleavage. He brought the bottle to his lips and hesitated, thinking he heard Seishiro's mocking laughter ringing through his ears.

Sod that. He swigged the contents back and swallowed with a powerful gulp.

"What a curious feeling!" thought Syaoran, dropping the bottle onto the floor; "Why have my underwear ridden so far up my…"

And so it was that he realized his clothing was shrinking rapidly. The waistband of his pants tightened uncomfortably and the buttons holding the front halves of his shirt together began to pull against their eyelets and pop off haphazardly. He gripped the material of his shirt, desperately trying to wrench the confining fabric away from his chest, but his fingers had become slow and unsteady.

He reached back to steady himself against the small table as the cuffs of his trousers unraveled and slid higher and higher up his thighs. Fumbling, he grasped a small box he had not noticed before and shakily lifted it to read the label. "Smoke me," the package insisted.

Desperate for relief from the tightening ligature of his collar (and deciding that a cigarette was probably in order after that little eyeful anyway…), Syaoran obliged the label and lit up one of the black-papered cigarettes. Drawing breath heavily against the tight wrapping of his shirt around his chest, he succeeded in dragging a fair amount of smoke into his lungs. He exhaled, the spent smoke stinging his eyes as it danced about his face and higher and higher into the air above him.

He was ready to take another pull when he realized the ceiling of the room also seemed to be escaping higher and higher above his head. He blinked, looking around him carefully as he finally managed to unfasten the buttons of his collar and draw in an unrestrained breath. The door, which had previously only been large enough for him to fit his head through now loomed like a stately entrance before him; promises of unrestrained bosoms and loose morals lurking just on the other side. He fidgeted with his ill-fitting clothing for a moment; though it had stopped shrinking, he was only too well aware that the cuffs of his trousers were now situated just below his glutes and that the tank-top below his burst-open button-up was exposing rather more of his abdomen than he would generally like. Miraculously, his green-striped gym socks were still held in place just below his knees by their unaltered elastic.

He considered panicking, but, remembering the state of dress he had witnessed just beyond the door, decided that it was best not to waste the effort and ran straight for the handle.

He was surprised and dismayed when only seconds later he was swept away in a flood of what smelt of and tasted to be a nice single malt whiskey. This appeared to be flowing freely from the bottle he had dropped not moments earlier (he had no idea what kind of construction the container must have for such a large amount of whiskey to be pouring forth from it, but he was unable to dwell on this question for long as the stinging liquor filled his nostrils). Gasping for air, he broke through the surface and searched for something – anything – that he might grab a hold of as he floated. As he searched, he heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and swam nearer to make out what it was.  
Surprised as he had been to be swept away in a rush of alcohol, he was even more surprised to encounter a carefully paddling Kamui darting back and forth amongst the waves.

"Hello!" he called, waving his arms about, "Kamui! Do you know a way out of here?" Kamui looked back, an expression of angsty confusion carefully fitted upon his face, but did not reply.

"Perhaps he doesn't understand English," Syaoran thought to himself, eyeing the inexplicable purple beret balancing on top of Kamui's head and the black and white striped sleeves of the other's fitted shirt. "I daresay this is a French Kamui – I'd always wondered what one might look like. I might have guessed he would favor the part of a walking stereotype…" He began again, this time out loud in the only bit of French his fumbling tongue could conjure , "Pardonne moi, voulez-vouz couchet avec Seishiro, c'est soir?"

Kamui gave a sudden leap out of the water and seemed to shake with a suspicious mixture of angst and rage.

"Ah! I'm sorry," Syaoran recovered, "I'm so sorry! I seem to have forgotten that you don't like Seishiro!"

"Fuckin' Seishiro…" Kamui replied coolly, glowering at the dog-paddling figure in front of him. "Come, let's get to the shore, and then I'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is that I hate Seishiro."

"Yeah, pretty sure I've heard that story already…" Syaoran began, but was quickly silenced as the large number of other Tokyo residents that had fallen into the pool began to thrash about in the whiskey, splashing the liquor up his nose and into his eyes. Sighing, he resigned himself to rehear the familiar angsty story and led the way paddling to the shore.

A wet, sopping party was quickly assembled on the bank – a dazed-looking Arashi combed knots from her long hair while Sorata flopped along beneath her skirt with a maniacal grin on his face, Yuuto carefully straightened the pink feather boa around his neck and readjusted the leopard-print belted fedora perched on his head, Nataku wept noisily and called for his daddy, and Fuuma moved cantankerously about the group, alternately licking drops of whiskey from their faces and shoving his hand through their chests.

The immediate concern, of course, was how to get dry. The group was not quick to agree on any particular method, and only after Fuuma had declared himself the only one present capable of granting all their wishes (only to be beaten back with slurs and also with fists) did Kamui step forward to proclaim himself an authority.

"Sit down and shut the hell up," he insisted, waving his sword threateningly above his head. Once the group had complied, sitting cross-legged around him in much the same way a class of children might gather around their teacher, he began. "This is the driest thing I know. 'Renowned curator Jacques Sauniere staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand Gallery. He lunged for the nearest painting he could see, a Caravaggio. Grabbing the gilded frame, the seventy-six-year-old man heaved the masterpiece toward himself until it tore from the wall and Sauniere collapsed backward in a heap beneath the canvas."

"What is this crap?" a still-soaking Yuuto demanded.

"Shut your mouth, pimp-boy," Kaumi seethed, "As I was saying: 'As he had anticipated, a thundering iron gate fell nearby, barricading the entrance to the suite…'"

"He's just reading _The DaVinci Code_!" Yuuto yelled. "This isn't dry, it's just horrible writing!"

"He's right!" Fuuma shouted, stepping closer to Kamui so he was able to nuzzle his face into the other's neck. "I move that the meeting adjourn for the immediate adoption of more…_energetic remedies_."

"Only _you_ could make that sound skeezey!" an agitated red-head shouted.

"Skeezey?! I stole that right from Carroll! Those are pretty big words coming from someone who looks like she just woke up in a cheap motel!"

"I _did_ just wake up in a cheap motel! At least _I_ have the brains to get paid before licking someone!" Fire shot from the redhead's fingers and danced menacingly around Fuuma's head. Syaoran scooted backward from the group and attempted to shake the sand that had piled up in the gusset of his shorts loose.

"I propose…" Fuuma started again, glaring at the insolent redhead, "that a raging battle to bring about Armageddon is the best way to get us dry!"

"A what?" Syaoran stammered, getting quickly to his feet.

"ARMAGEDDON!" the crowd roared. Beneath his feet Syaoran felt the ground begin to quake as combat erupted around him. Brightly colored flashes of light skidded in front of his eyes and his nose was assaulted with the smells of burning flesh and tangy blood.

"Wait!" Kamui cried, shirking away from Fuuma's questing tongue. "We need prizes for the winners!"

"Oh yes! Prizes!" the group quickly agreed.

"But who'll give out the prizes, and how many of them do we need?" Yuuto asked suspiciously.

"He will," Kamui thrust his sword toward Syaoran. "And there can _be only one_!"

"Dude, chill," Fuuma set his hand onto Kamui's shoulder, "No one is going to pick up a 'Highlander' reference in the middle of a Wonderland knock-off."

"They will if you insist upon explaining it so deliberately," Kamui shoved the hand off and raised his sword toward Syaoran once more. "We will have….HIS PANTS!"

"His pants!" the group repeated, turning toward Syaoran with lasciviously out-stretched fingers. The boy blanched several shades of pale and gripped the waistband of his much-shrunken trousers protectively. Slowly, he began backing away from the group, uncertain of how to best address such a collection of blood-thirsty characters with designs on his shorts.

"You promised to tell me a story, Kamui," he squeaked, hoping that this might distract the overenthusiastic ringleader, "about why it is you hate Seishiro."

"Mine is a long and a sad tale," said Kamui, turning to Syaoran, the battle for Armageddon quickly forgotten.

"Um, yes, you should really let it all out…" Syaoran managed in what he hoped desperately was a soothing and encouraging sort of voice

"Once upon a time," Kamui began, gathering the other members of the crowd around himself once again, "there lived an evil veterinarian named Seishiro. In what began as a terribly misguided effort to mess with my twin brother Subaru, I encouraged flirting between them and would dress my dearest brother in the most flashy loli-boy outfits I could design. They exchanged eyeballs as a symbol of their love and made plans to run away together to Fairy Park, the one place where society could accept them. However, upon listening to the heart rending song pumped electronically out of the fairy statue, Seishiro became enraged when he learned that Subaru had conspired behind his back to write the song with the singer, Ora (who had been a client, and was most upset with Seishiro after he sacrificed her cat upon a bed of evil and lettuce) and moved to strike a fatal blow. As fate would have it, I had trailed them to deliver a hand-knit sweater for my dearest brother and interrupted them at the vital moment, insisting that Seishiro take my life instead. And then…I died."

"That doesn't make any sense Kamui."

"Yeah, Subaru's not even your brother in this canon."

"He isn't?"

"Which canon are we in?"

"It doesn't even matter which canon we're in; that story sounds like you got high and read a bunch of CLAMP manga without bothering to notice which one was which."

Syaoran decided to stealthily hurry away from the group, which was quickly descending into chaos once again as the more glaring errors in Kamui's story began to surface. He wished he had never mentioned the name Seishiro as he began darting through the many vines and branches obscuring his path through the dense forest. "Nobody seems to like him anyway…" he said to himself in a melancholy tone. Off in the distance, he heard the group resume their battle with calls of "ARMAGEDDON!!" and quickened his pace.

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Ahead of him, Syaoran spotted the White Rabbit-Eared Mokona, trotting slowly away from him and looking most anxious as it mumbled to itself. "Sakura! Sakura! Oh my dear paws! She'll get me executed, as sure as Mokona is Mokona! Where CAN I have dropped them, I wonder?" Syaoran was instantly suspicious that it was looking for his stolen box of Pop-Tarts, and proceeded to follow the little creature as it meandered down the path. Suddenly, the white ball of fluff spun on its heels to face him, shouting "Mekkyo!" as its eyes grew wide.

"Miyuki-chan!" it scolded, bounding toward the boy, "you've been very naughty! I told you to lay out my bed time stories so that I might reenact them with Duchess Sakura, but you've gone and lost them, and now I shall be dreadfully late!"

"I think you have me confused with someone," Syaoran sputtered as the White Rabbit-Eared Mokona jumped up on his shoulder and began tugging away the remains of his button-up shirt. "What are you doing?"

The White Rabbit-Eared Mokona leered and cackled ominously as it wrenched the shirt free and grasped onto his must-abused waistband. "Give Mokona your pants!"

"What the hell?!" Syaoran screamed, knocking the Mokona away and returning to the dense forest as fast as his legs would carry him. What was so special about his pants that everyone he met here seemed insistent upon claiming them as their own?

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

After a period of wandering and weaving, Syaoran emerged in a large clearing. He shaded his eyes with his hand, convinced that the bright sun must be having a bit of fun with them, for he was certain that just a small way in front of him sat a Seishiro-pillar atop a mushroom, drawing leisurely breaths from a hookah.

Syaoran had never seen a Seishiro-pillar before, but he felt most certain that this must be the proper name for the creature before him – after all, what else might one call an animal with the face of a Seishiro and the body of a caterpillar? The Seishiro-pillar and Syaoran looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Seishiro-pillar took the hookah out of its mouth and addressed him in a languid, sleepy voice.

"Who are _YOU_?" said the Seishiro-pillar?

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Syaoran stammered "I'm Syaoran."

"But you're not Syaoran," the Seishiro-pillar said sternly, "Your correct name is Tsubasa, is it not?"

"Well, technically I am both Syaoran and Tsubasa, you see…"

"I do _NOT_ see."

"Syaoran was my father, and I borrowed his name to travel to Clow Country, where I was captured and cloned. Then through a rather remarkable turn of events the clone Syaoran was killed, reborn as my father, and then joined with me in spirit and body…"

"I see nothing so remarkable about that series of events. I myself am my own third uncle twice removed _and_ my sister's grandmother. Perhaps if you were to throw some Oedipus-ian mommy-issues into your story I might be more inclined to be impressed."

Syaoran turned to leave, feeling more than a small twinge of jealousy over the Seishiro-pillar's impressively lurid family tree.

"Come back!" the Seishiro-pillar called after him. "I've something important to say!"

Reluctantly, Syaoran turned back.

"Keep your eyeballs," said the Seishiro-pillar.

"Is that all?" demanded Syaoran, swallowing the urge to smash the Seishiro-pillar into gooey green Seishiro-pillar-paste that he felt slowly rising in his throat.

"No."

"…"

"You have your father/clone's memories, do you?" the Seishiro-pillar asked, taking the hookah from its lips. Syaoran nodded affirmatively. "And how are you certain of this?"

"I can recall events and lessons that I couldn't before."

"Lessons? Such as?"

"Strange poems in a foreign tongue that I am quite certain I never learned as a child as well as..."

"Recite."

"Recite what?"

"Whatever you want – this is Wonderland, you can't make it through without reciting some garbled poetry."

"…"

"Them's the rules, Buck-o. Repeat 'You are Drunk, Mistress Yuuko.'"

"Very well," Syaoran sighed and began:

"You are drunk, Mistress Yuuko," the young man said,

"And your words have become very slurred;

And yet you incessantly spout off advice—

Don't you think, in your state, that's absurd?

"When I'm sober," the witch did reply to her slave,

"I find that I care not a lick;

For the whining and pleading and wishes of men

Who couldn't locate their own dick!"

"You are drunk," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,

And your talk most uncommonly vile;

You extort such steep prices from all of your victims

And still you can manage a smile!"

"When I'm sober," said the witch, as she shook her dark locks,

"My smile seems that much more wicked;

For imagine the outrageous shouts, screams and terror,

If the customer saw my teeth naked?"

"You are drunk," said the youth, "And your mind has become

Something dark, sick and obvi'sly twisted;

Yet you finished the bottle, the flask and the cup—

Pray how do you stand unassisted?

"My liver," said the witch, "Is made of some stuff,

Which is clearly much sterner than yours;

Add that to the fact I'm a witch, not a lush:

This tol'rance is something my magic ensures.

"You are drunk," said the youth "And clearly unstable.

Your eyes have begun to roll back;

Shall I run to the pharmacy or should I wait

For the hang-over to make its attack?"

"I have answered three questions and granted your wish;

Now get the hell out of my sight."

"For I've had all of the hot-headed pissing and moaning

I can stomach, Watanuki, tonight!"

"That was awful from beginning to end," the Seishiro-pillar decided, resuming its hookah. "I can see why you're anxious to be rid of him."

"It's not all bad you know," Syaoran began.

"I _DON'T_ know."

"Right. So, I'm just going to go now…"

"Wait," the Seishiro-pillar said, motioning to the boy, "I expect you're tired of everyone trying to steal your pants…"

Syaoran twitched. "Tired" was not the adjective he would have chosen, but he supposed it was close enough to the mark that he didn't bother to argue. "Rather."

The Seishiro-pillar smirked to itself. "Have some mushroom. The green will make you less; the red will make you more."

"More what?"

"Attractive, my dear boy."

Syaoran eyed the Seishiro-pillar suspiciously as he stuffed bits of mushroom into what remained of his pockets. He refused to ingest them in the presence of the strange creature, and so took his leave, heading away from the clearing and back into the forest. Once he had ventured a way in and was no longer able to smell the fragrant smoke of the hookah, he removed the bits of mushroom from his pockets and inspected them. He couldn't recall which color was supposed to have what effect on him, but the promise of keeping the rest of his much-abused clothing was far too tempting to resist. He bit tentatively into the red bit.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Syaoran rolled his eyes and wondered aloud how silly he must be to simply take the Seishiro-pillar's word that eating a simple mushroom would make him less attractive, when suddenly he felt a sharp pain between his shoulders and an icy draft up his stomach. "How stupid," he said to no one in particular, "I wonder if I'm having a heart attack."

He clutched at his chest (as he had so often seen done in dramatizations of heart attacks), and was quite surprised when his hand was filled with a bounty of flesh that he had not prepared for. He tilted his chin downward, reluctant to fathom what manner of creature must be clinging to him _now_, only to discover that his palm was currently hefting a large breast which swung delicately from his chest wall. He frowned; surely he would have remembered being in possession of such _illustrious_ love melons…?

He was quickly detached from his wonderings by a loud shout of "TROLLOP!" as a small, pink-haired persacom landed on his head and began slapping ferociously at his face.

"I'm NOT a Trollop!" Syaoran insisted, "Leave me alone!"

"Trollop!" repeated the persacom. Then sadly, she jumped to the ground, bouncing once off of Syaoran's now heaving cleavage, and shook her head. "Sumomo is so sadly out of her element…"

"Who's Sumomo?"

"_I'M_ Sumomo!" the persacom insisted, "And _YOU _are a _TROLLOP_! Taking your magnificent new mammaries out for a walk I suppose – just like every other stuffed ham in fish-net tights wandering around this hooter-infested hellhole!"

Syaoran gulped, impressed and frightened by the small robot's alliterative skills. "I'm sorry you're so upset, but surely there's no need to slut-shame…" he began.

"Oh, _you're_ sorry. 'Kawaii' just doesn't cut it when you're completely surrounded by TROLLOPS flaunting their titillating tatas! All because the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation only saw fit to package poor me with pitiful pancakes!"

"Yes, well, I'm sure that they'll be the first against the wall when the revolution comes…"

Sumomo sat down and began to pout. Syaoran wanted nothing more than to leave the little doll and find his way back to the garden of bouncing delights he had spied earlier though the small door, but he found himself facing a conundrum: namely, what should be done about the two fantastically fulsome funbags that had so recently sprouted beneath his shirt? He absentmindedly fondled the larger of the two as he considered. What had the Seishiro-pillar said exactly? One would make him…

He pulled the bit of green mushroom from his pocket. Perhaps _this_ was the color to make him less attractive, he decided. He took a deep breath, all too aware of how only a tiny taste of the red had terrorized his previously masculine physique, and licked the mushroom with the tip of his tongue. Slowly, his chest deflated to its normal girth and the boy bade a bittersweet farewell to his newly-burgeoning bazoombas. He felt his face and the rest of his body to determine what the effects of the green mushroom had been, but to his disappointment, he could find no changes. He licked the green mushroom a second time, and was quite satisfied to feel his face break out in large pustules – not dissimilar to those one might find on the back of a thirteen-year-old boy who hadn't showered for several weeks. He tossed the remainder of the mushroom bits to Sumomo and wished the persacom luck. Before he could see her inflate, he had set back off through the woods.

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

The sun was hanging just below its zenith in the sky when Syaoran chanced upon a country home. Driven by hunger and confident in his newfound unattractiveness, he stopped to knock at the door. A tall white-haired man answered momentarily, eying the boy suspiciously before saluting.

"Yukito?"

"I serve the Duchess; who is calling?"

"Um…Syaoran." He was certain that he heard screams and crashes just beyond the door. "This must be a bad time…"

"No, this is the only time," Yukito insisted lurching open the door and pulling Syaoran in by his tattered shirt-collar, "After all, _I've_ certainly never seen you before and don't plan to again."

Syaoran was quickly shuffled into the kitchen where the Duchess sat on an overstuffed sofa, feeding a baby from a three-nippled bottle. Toward the back of the kitchen a cook was bent over a large table stacked with china, most of which appeared to have be broken.

"Oy, Sakura – you've got company," the cook shouted without turning to look. As he announced this he haphazardly tossed a plate over his shoulder which bounced once from the Duchess's head before shattering over the back of the creature next to her.

The Duchess looked up from the drinking baby and smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Touya. Hello strange man." Curled up next to her on the sofa was a lanky blonde magician adorned with fuzzy cat ears and a tail which seemed to twitch in time with the clatter of flying dishes. Across the magician's face was plastered a large, lazy smile, though it was quite obvious to Syaoran that the magician was fast asleep.

"Um…hello, Princess."

"I think you mean Duchess."

"Oh, right," Syaoran suddenly felt terribly shy and desperately hoped the blush he could feel emerging on his cheeks would be well-hidden by the impromptu acne. "Please – what is that next to you on the sofa? Why is it smiling like that even when dishes break over its head?"

"It's a Cheshire Wizard. They all smile, especially when they're being beaten. Keeps them from getting too angsty – they're completely unmanageable when they're in that state. BEAST!" The last word was directed toward the fussing infant she was attempting to feed.

Syaoran eyed the screaming child with concern. "Maybe if you weren't so rough with it…"

"Oh, sure," the Duchess groaned as she stood and carried the child over toward the cook. "Men think they know _everything_, don't they? _Don't_ drag your teeth, _don't_ let the cat watch, _don't_ beat the baby…it just goes on and on and _on_…" She dumped the baby into the cook's arms, where it immediately reached up and yanked roughly on his ears. "BEAST!" She quickly grabbed the bundle back and began to swing it about roughly, singing what Syaoran supposed was a lullaby.

Speak roughly to three-headed babes,

And beat them when they seize:

Upon their suffering uncle's lobes,

And act a vicious tease.

I speak severely to my babe;

I beat it when it seizes;

For it can properly address

It's uncle when it pleases!

"Three-head…?"

"Here!" the Duchess thrust the baby into Syaoran's arms. "You may feed it for awhile. I must go and prepare to play croquette with the Queen."

Syaoran prepared to argue for a moment (he had no relation to the child, and really wasn't in that good with them in the first place…), then looked down to the infant nestled in his arms and was quite distressed to see his own face looking back at him. The doppelganger baby was clearly unhappy to be removed from its mother and began to cry violently, kicking and thrusting its arms at obtuse angles. "Shh…" he soothed, running a finger along the child's nose. It stopped fussing and cooed, but the crying still continued.

"Where is that crying coming from…?" Syaoran wondered aloud. From the very corner of his peripheral vision he watched as the cook slammed his meat cleaver into the table top and grunted in disgust. Syaoran turned to inquire what the matter was, and in so doing, caught and shifted the blanket swaddling the baby so that it no longer covered its head, or, rather, _heads_, as two additional sets of identical amber eyes now stared back.

The cook moved swiftly to snatch the child away from Syaoran, taking with him the three-nippled bottle. "Irresponsible brat…" he murmured, exiting the kitchen.

Syaoran's knees felt as though they might give way beneath him and he collapsed onto the sofa, waking the Cheshire Wizard who yawned and stretched as he rearranged himself. The wizard grinned as he stared at Syaoran. He seemed good-natured enough, Syaoran decided, but there appeared to be something sinister lurking just beneath the smiling façade.

"Cheshire Wizard," he began slowly, "Did that baby have…?"

"It's _your_ fault you know," the wizard said, smirking back at the boy, "You were warned, after all, about inbreeding."

"I was?"

"Oh yes, not long ago in a smoky bar…"

"But it's not _my_…you know, never mind. I think I should leave," Syaoran began to stand but the wizard nudged his fuzzy-eared head into his into his side.

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know…I'm looking for a garden…"

"There's a garden over that way," the wizard smiled and pointed over his head, "and another over that way," here his tail moved to indicate the opposite direction. "One belongs to a Plushie, and the other to a March Hare-thing. Take your pick, they're both quite pissy."

"I think I've had my share of pissy people today, thanks."

"Oh, of course. This place is filled with pissy people. I daresay you're becoming a bit pissy yourself."

"I'm not pissy!" Syaoran insisted, though in truth he was becoming rather so.

"Whatever you say, Syao-tan. Will you be playing croquet with the Queen today?"

"No."

"Well then, I shall see you there." And with that the Cheshire wizard was gone, disappeared into a ring of rune-like characters that whirled from his finger.

Syaoran supposed he should really be carrying on and began to walk toward the door. As he moved to grasp the handle, however, the wizard reappeared as suddenly as it had gone.

"One more thing."

"…"

"Your pants." And with a smooth movement the wizard had removed the tattered remains of Syaoran's shrunken trousers.

"HEY!" Syaoran squealed. "Give those back! I can't go around naked!"

"But you're not naked," the wizard said, smiling from ear to ear. "You've got quite the handsome pair of cut-offs going on there."

"What…?" The wizard was correct; Syaoran ran his fingers through the long fringe of the cut-off denim shorts that fell just onto the uppermost part of his thighs. "But the Seishiro-pillar said the green mushroom would…"

"Make you less attractive," the wizard finished. "What would that possibly have to do with your pants? And more importantly, why would you ever listen to a damned thing a Seishiro-pillar has to say?"

"But you said earlier…"

"Nuh-uh-uh," the wizard grinned as he clicked his tongue, "But this should take care of all those pesky pant-stealers."

Syaoran stared blankly at the wizard, who was carefully folding his pants into a crane.

"No one wants to steal cut-offs."

"So they weren't…?

"Well, it probably started off that way, but the author has a bit of a humorless feminist streak, and while it's occasionally funny to have you stalked by raving fangirls and your pants stolen for no particular reason, it starts to cross a line when they, you know, start to actively sexually assault you."

"But it's fine to objectify my body in a pair of Daisy Dukes and a tank top?"

"Obviously. You're a _fictional_ character created for people's amusement – have you _seen_ some of the outfits CLAMP has drawn me in?? And there are no pictures in this story so, really, any smutty images or impure thoughts are entirely the fault of the reader."

"I hate Wonderland."

"Yes, well, perhaps you'll make smarter decisions in the future then, hmmm?" And with that the wizard disappeared once again, leaving only a darkened space where he had once stood.

Syaoran stared into the empty space for a moment, wondering whether the humor in this world would still be permitted to take the form of gratuitous boob jokes, and whether he would ever be permitted to find the garden of frolicking female frontal flesh bulbs. He supposed he had just answered his own question on both fronts…

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 8

**Note: Ioryogi and Ginsei are from Kobato, which is fairly new, so I don't know if many people keep up with it. It's not vital that you know who they are, but I figured an explanation was in order as to why I'd replaced the Mad Hatter with a Pissed Off Plushie :-D**

_Chapitre 8: The Country of Hearts_

_I do not consider drugs necessary for a funny story, but I do not consider them to be evil, either._

Heading in the direction the Cheshire Wizard had specified, it was not long before Syaoran encountered what he supposed was the garden of the March Hare-thing. Much to his disappointment, the garden was not filled with pheromone-drunk coeds, but rather with a long table surrounded by many chairs and piled high with bottles of strong ale. The March Hare-thing (he noted here that "Hare-thing" was a most accurate description of the being, which took the general form of a hare, but was also in possession of some decidedly non-hare-like claws and fangs and a long, bushy tail; the black patch covering its right eye also spoke of some decidedly non-hare-like tendencies) sat glaring at what appeared to be a blue plush dog with remarkably sharp teeth. Between the pair a girl with long pink hair held back by a pair of dormouse ears on a headband rested her head on the table.

"No room!" the Plushie yelled, as he saw Syaoran approach. This was followed by a loud belch and a sudden spurt of flame from its mouth.

"Oh, shut the hell up, Ioryogi," the March Hare-thing spat, "It's my party and you can take your bimbo friend and leave if you don't like who I invite. She's already passed out anyway."

Syaoran approached the table, carefully watching the Pissed-off Plushie as he pulled up a seat.

"Have some whiskey," the March Hare-thing invited, "It's a very nice single malt."

Syaoran scoured the table. "There isn't any…"

"Oh, right, I forgot. Have some tequila instead."

"I'll pass, thank you." Syaoran noted with some disappointment that there was also no tequila gracing the table.

The Pissed-off Plushie looked the boy up and down. "How is a Christmas tree like a Catholic priest?" He asked.

Syaoran was a bit put-off that this was the first thing the plushie had said to him that wasn't a threat, but upon noting the pleading look from the March Hare-thing, decided to have a stab at the riddle. "Both their balls are just for decoration...?" he managed after only a short pause.

"That's DISGUSTING!" the March Hare-thing spat, leaping up onto the table and extracting his fearful, decidedly-un-hare-like claws. The Pissed-off Plushie appeared to roll his beady eyes as he opened his mouth to spew flames at the March Hare-thing.

"Oy, Ginsei. Now it's your turn to shut the hell up, you fucker."

"You fuck her, you brought her."

"I know a riddle!" the girl in the dormouse ears said, suddenly lifting her head from the table. The Plushie and the March Hare-thing appeared very surprised by this statement and turned to look toward the girl. She began:

"A blue-eyed young man with a hex

Proclaimed that he wanted some Smex

He got down on his knees

And begged Doumeki please

But you see, archers don't like boys in specs."

The Plushie growled. "Dorbato! That's not a riddle, that's just a filthy limerick! Minus 100 points!" Here he dipped a well-chewed straw into pot of ink and scrawled "-100" across the girl's cheek. The girl in the dormouse ears seemed very nonplussed by all of this and laid her head back on the table and began snoring softly once again.

"Oh! Oh!" the March Hare-thing shouted, bounding back up onto the table, "I have one as well;

There was a blue plushie Ioryo-nag

Whose rage made him kind of a tool-bag

He shot flames from his head

And he filled us with dread

But man was he good for a shag!"

The Plushie seemed to consider the implications of this "riddle" for a moment before turning to glower at the March Hare-thing. Fortunately, before he was able to loose another rush of flames from his throat, a high-pitched staccato alarm began to sound from a cell phone hiding beneath the clutter and empty bottles filling the table.

"CLEAN CUP! MOVE DOWN!" the Plushie announced, pushing the sleeping girl several seats down.

Syaoran was confused by all of this. "But you haven't actually used the cups in front of you…"

"It's TIME," the Plushie insisted.

"Time for what? What time is it?"

"It's Beer-o'clock of course!" the March Hare-thing proclaimed and began pouring a draft into their new, cleanish cups.

"But how can you tell?" Syaoran wondered.

"It's always Beer-o'clock here – ever since that bastard Hare-thing dropped my phone into a toilet. The clock hasn't worked properly since."

"Couldn't you just get a different clock…?"

The Plushie and the Hare-thing ruminated on this question for a moment. "But then it wouldn't be Beer-o'clock," the Plushie said plainly.

"Yeah, what are you, some kind of teatotaling, party-crashing killjoy?!"

"No! I just think that if you want to go on a bender, you should call it that!"

"Who's getting bent?"

"_YOU_ go get bent, you machine-washed, lint-infested, piss-poor excuse for a Care Bear Cousin!"

"I'll have your other eye as well, you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Easter Bunny with a boner!"

"YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME, YOU BASTARD!"

Syaoran saw the sleeping girl with the dormouse ears lift her head to take in the commotion. "Is everyone here barking mad?" he asked when he'd caught her eye.

"No," she replied sleepily, "Just pissy." And with that she laid her head back on the table and resumed her surprisingly peaceful slumber.

"Oy, Ginsei," the Plushie chuckled, disentangling himself from the furious hurricane of arms, legs, and claws he was addressing. "She's out again. Watch this…"

Syaoran decided it was best to leave this little party as he saw the beginnings of a moustache being drawn across the girl's lip by the now-giggling duo. He hoped for her sake that they would at least draw some eyebrows as well to replace the ones the March Hare-thing was giggling maniacally as he shaved away…

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Not far from the March Hare-thing's garden, Syaoran ran face-first into the end of the world. Or at least, he assumed this was the end of the world; what he actually ran into was a great wall, spanning out in each direction as far as the eye could see, with the word "ARMAGEDDON" painted in large, friendly letters across its face. He supposed Kamui and his followers had had some success in drying off, at any rate, though he was confused as to why they had left a door in the wall. Deciding he has already seen enough strange sights today, Syaoran decided to pass through the door and on to the other side.

He knew he was in heaven the moment he stepped through the door, for there could be no mistaking the immaculately groomed hedges or the exotic array of flowers that bloomed around him; this was the Promised Garden of Bouncing Bazongas he had stumbled upon earlier in his travels. He stumbled about the place, his head swimming with pure, exuberant lechery at finally having found his way back to the Garden of Generous Jugs, eager to introduce himself to the legion of voluptuous vixens he had spied just this morning…

His heart sank as he realized he was alone in the garden.

"Shit."

He decided to wander on, now anxious to find any exit from this strange place and make his way back to his companions at the river bank. The hedges seemed to form a maze, which he navigated with an eye toward the sky; assuring he continued to head in a consistent direction. Before he had gone far he began to hear the distinct sound of human voices, but as he approached he was dismayed to realize they were masculine. Resignedly, Syaoran decided to head toward them anyway.

As he rounded the final hedgerow to the courtyard where he was certain the voices were originating, Syaoran caught his breath in surprise; he had previously been informed, on more than one occasion, that money did not grow on trees, so it was a bit of a shock to discover that denim pants apparently _did_. Even more surprising was the pair of bickering gardeners who were running about frantically trimming the legs off of the blooms.

"I can't _believe_ you planted the full-legged bulbs!" the gardener with the mismatched eyes shouted at the other. The taller gardener took no notice of this, however, as he readjusted the foam plugs stuffed into his ears. This only seemed to further incense the first gardener, however, who dropped his shears and rather roughly ripped the plugs from his comrade's ears. "Oy, _DOUMEKI_!" he shouted as his face contorted into something that loosely resembled a rabid hyena, "Did you _hear_ me?! She'll have your eye for this! She'll have _my_ eye for this – which is actually _your_ eye as well! We're completely screwed and it's all your fault!"

The taller gardener only rolled his eyes and muttered, "So noisy!" before continuing to trim the legs off of the denim blossoms.

"She's been exceptionally pissy lately as well!" the first gardener continued, "There's no amount of sake in this kingdom that can satisfy her anymore! Every night it's more and more! And now that the denim bushes are FUBARed, I can't imagine what she'll do next!" Here the gardener with the mismatched eyes stopped to stare at Syaoran, who had taken up residence beneath the shade of one of the larger bushes and was rather enjoying watching someone other than himself freak out over the eccentricities of this world's inhabitants. "And what do you think _you're_ doing?" the gardener demanded. "Get off your ass, slacker! And help us! Or it will be _your_ eye as well!"

"But I…" Syaoran began.

"You _are_ a gardener, aren't you? You're wearing the uniform – get some shears and get to work!"

Syaoran noted with some alarm that the gardeners were indeed clad in cut-off shorts and tank tops which were disturbingly similar to his own. He stood up, grumbling to himself, but it was too late; roaring trumpet blasts were already announcing the arrival of whomever the gardeners so feared. He was pulled flat on his face by the one with the mismatched eyes as the cacophony of marching footsteps and shouts of the "The Queen! The Queen!" moved closer. "Just keep your head down and your mouth shut," the gardener hissed in his ear.

Syaoran was not particularly inclined to heed the instructions of someone who wore cut-off shorts of his own volition, and so lifted his head that he might watch as the procession advanced. First came a legion of ninjas, which Syaoran had to squint to see as they moved at lightning speed across the courtyard, ducking behind bushes and deftly dispatching any stray creatures that fell in their path. Behind these followed what Syaoran assumed were the nobles; all dressed in matching moon and heart patterned garments, they bobbed and wove through the courtyard, chattering noisily to themselves and being a general nuisance to the ninjas they followed. Next came the White Rabbit-Eared Mokona, who had now been joined by a Black Rabbit-Eared Mokona; both carried large, sparkling magnums of sake atop jewel encrusted pillows and bounced haphazardly along their way. Last of all in this grand process came the Queen of Hearts, who scowled menacing at the rest of her court.

The sight of the Queen was awesome (in the original sense of the word, not the one that might be used to describe some particularly magnificent milk fountains; though she certainly wasn't lacking _those_ either) and terrifying; Syaoran was filled with a sudden urge to rearrange himself into the fetal position and empty his suddenly and urgently bursting bladder. She was remarkably tall, towering over the rest of the procession; her wide shoulders commanded a respect that was only matched by the authoritative gaze of her crimson eyes. She wore only a simple headdress to signify her status – a stark red piece that accentuated the color of her eyes emblazoned with the crest of the lunar heart in the center of her forehead. Around this, her immaculately waxed and spiked ebony hair stood stiffly to attention.

Upon approaching the prostrate trio the Queen paused, upper lip curling into a ferocious snarl.

"Shiro manjuu – katana!"

At this command the White Rabbit-Eared Mokona paused, bracing itself against the nearest denim bush, and coughed up an exceptionally long sword with a gleaming silver hilt in the form of a dragon's head. The sword landed quite comfortably in the Queen's hand was in short order pointed toward Syaoran's head.

"Who's been cutting my Wranglers short?" the Queen demanded.

"I-it w-was Doumeki, the rotten bastard!" the mismatch-eyed gardener cried, curling into a ball.

The other gardener rolled his eyes and simply pointed toward the pair of shears in the other's hand. At this the first gardener flew into a fit of rage and began assailing the taller with hands, fists, and the occasional denim pant leg.

"Oy! What is this happy horseshit?!" the Queen demanded, raising her blade above her head. The two gardeners folded into themselves in fear.

"N-nothing your Majesty."

"OUT WITH THEIR EYES!"

"Calm down now, Quee-tan."

Syaoran opened one of his eyes at the sound of this lyrical and familiar voice and was very much relieved to see the Cheshire Wizard sitting upon the Queen's shoulders.

"That's QUEEN, you damned mage. And what the hell are you doing on my back?"

"Enjoying the view Quee-pipi. And a most spectacular view it is as well. Have you switched to underwires?"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," the wizard shifted so that his elbows rested on the crown of the Queens head, his own head balanced on his palms above. "Don't you think you're being a bit harsh? They're only teenagers, after all."

"Fine. OFF WITH THEIR ARM!"

"Now, now," the wizard patted the Queen's head. "Why don't you just invite them to play croquet with us?"

"Can't I just chop something off?"

The wizard giggled and wrapped his arms tightly around the Queen's face. "Control….control! You must learn control! No one likes a violent Quee-sama!"

"Hmph."

"That's settled then! Let's begin!"

Syaoran got to his feet as the crowd began to take their positions. Across the field, miniature battle robots formed wickets by bending over backward into bridge formations while white rabbits with suspiciously long, rat-like tails curled themselves into balls.

"I go first!" the Queen declared, whacking the closest ratbit ball to her with the broad side of her sword and sending it coursing through three of the wickets. She grinned, very pleased with her effort, and snorted. "Beat that, wizard."

The Cheshire Wizard was next and took a most spirited swing at his ratbit ball, only to recoil moments later in fear and return to his perch on the Queen's shoulders, shrieking incoherently about white death and terrible pointy teeth .

Syaoran assumed from the expectant stares he was getting that he was meant to go next, but he had not been given a mallet. Not wanting to lose an eye (or an arm for that matter), he followed the Queen's lead and drew his sword from his hand. He painstakingly coordinated his shot, drew his arm back…

And proceeded to slice the squealing ratbit in two.

"Destruction of public property!" screamed the Queen, "Drunk and disorderly! Indecent exposure! OUT WITH HIS EYE!"

Syaoran was immediately seized by the ninja guard and held in place while the wizard tried desperately to calm the overexcited Queen. This proved to be of no avail, as the Queen had been worked into a terrible frenzy and was currently slashing wildly at the denim bushes with her sword and howling very much like a dog in a crowded suburban neighborhood at three in the morning. Syaoran was almost relieved when the guard began to drag him away, as he was quite sure he had just witnessed the Queen split her dress down the front and begin to beat against her chest her with her fists.

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

"Hello again, strange young man."

Syaoran opened his eyes (and was thankful to still be in possession of the pair) to find himself face to face once again with the Duchess. "Sakura!" he breathlessly exclaimed.

"I'm not your Sakura, I'm afraid," the Duchess confessed sadly.

"Mom?"

"Nope, just someone who looks like both and has the same name. Trust me, it's better this way."

"I suppose so," he agreed, "Why are you in prison?"

"Destruction of public property, drunk and disorderly, indecent exposure…the usual. I'm not sure the Queen knows any other charges."

"No, just the ones he's usually arrested for."

"He?"

"Huh?"

"But you mustn't worry too much," the Duchess continued, "They never actually execute anyone here. The Queen has a superstition that she grows weaker every time she orders someone's death."

"Does she?"

The Duchess shrugged. "Who knows? They've never actually executed anyone."

Syaoran's attention was captured by a shadow moving in the corner of their dank and dusty cell. "Hello?" he asked tentatively.

"It's alright, you should come out," the Duchess encouraged. Slowly, a familiar face emerged from the darkness, and Syaoran was once again compelled to curl into the fetal position as he met his own gaze. "This is the Mock-Syaoran," the Duchess supplied, smiling from ear to ear and joining their hands together.

Syaoran and the Mock-Syaoran stared at one another for a momentary eternity. Then, smiling broadly, the Mock-Syaoran clapped his hand on his doppelganger's back and exclaimed "Long time, no see!"

"But I don't think we've ever met…"

"Of course we've met!" the Mock-Syaoran insisted, "For I am you and you are me."

"Dad?"

"Nope, just someone who looks like him and has the same name. Trust me, it's better this way."

"Better than what…?" Syaoran wondered aloud. Thoughts began dancing around in his head. Wasn't one of them supposed to go on a murderous rampage, possibly killing several thousand goats in the process…? Or something…?

"Don't you remember?" the Duchess seemed very worried. "We were all together, and we used to dance the Cloney Troisdrille…"

"The Cloney what…?

"The Cloney Troisdrille!" the Duchess was now very insistant. "We must show him!" She grasped the Syaoran's hands, beginning to turn the three of them in a poorly contained circle, and along with the Mock-Syaoran began to sing:

""Will you clone a little faster?"

Said the Ass-chin to the boy.

"There's a witch who's watching closely,

And she's starting to annoy.

"See how eagerly she studies

All the ways to end my plot!

But your clone shall be my brainless,

Violent servant – will it not?

Mindless violence, mindless violence, blood spatters look hot!

Mindless violence, mindless violence, no more cutesy plot!

"You really have no notion

How delightful it will be

When you have mauled and killed

And brought the feathers back to me!"

But the struggling boy replied

"Now just wait a second, Bub"

And into the forming Cloney

His left eyeball did he shove!

Tempered violence, tempered violence – well, at least sort of!

Tempered violence, tempered violence – well, maybe, kind of!

"You stupid little bastard,

Into a tank you shall now go,

Where you can sit and stew

And watch the whole macabre show.

Your clone will get down and dirty

With your precious little girl

(Who looks just like your mother;

This plot does make my poor brain whorl…)

Stored up violence, stored up violence, from watching her toes curl!

Stored up violence, stored up violence, you'll want to feckin' hurl!"

"Wait, so you got it on with _my_ Sakura?" Syaoran stammered.

The Mock-Syaoran looked offended. "Dude, you have a hard enough time getting it on with your Sakura, what makes you think I'd mess with that?"

"But you just said…"

"It's just a song," the Mock-Syaoran shrugged.

"Yes," the Duchess agreed, "Just a song."

A heavy silence filled the air.

"But now that we're all back together…" the Mock-Syaoran began.

"Back together? I thought you said it was just a song."

"It _was_ just a song. Our time together was much more…_squelchy_." The Duchess batted her eyelashes.

Syaoran threw his hands up. "I think I would remember something like that…"

"But it hasn't happened yet," the Mock-Syaoran said seriously, draping an arm around the Duchess and bringing the other up to caress the curve of Syaoran's jaw, "So how could you remember?"

"What do you me…!" Syaoran was cut off as the Duchess pulled him closer and began nibbling at his earlobes. He felt a second warm tongue begin to trace the curve of his neck and wondered what it was that he had felt was so important to say just seconds earlier.

"Wait. Wait! WAIT!" he screamed, breaking away suddenly. "This isn't how this story is supposed to end! This is too messed up, even for this series!"

The Duchess pouted. "Oh sure, I suppose you'd rather leave this cell, sit through a boring trial, and eventually wake up back on the river bank with your friends. You're so predictably boring Syaoran!"

The Mock-Syaoran eyed his twin suspiciously. "Seriously. What's wrong with you, man? I think we've proven time and time again that _nothing_ is too messed up for this series."

"Except for people stealing my pants."

"Well, yes, except for that."

Syaoran considered. It was true that this series had rolled directly over many lines clearly labeled "WTF, mate?" without ever looking back. It was also true that most of these lines had been driven over to advance storylines about other, supposedly "supporting" characters. It was also also true that he hadn't gotten any action in a long time. Wasn't he supposed to be the star here? Shouldn't he be getting the most action? Isn't that what the almighty Nanase had in mind? Weren't these two emphatically _not_ his parents?

Without further hesitation Syaoran succumbed to his cell-mates, overwhelmed by their none-too-subtle and oddly persuasive groping hands. His eyes rolled back, opening only slightly when hear heard a loud WHOOSH from the corner of the cell.

The cat-eared face staring wide-eyed at the trio from the shadows of the corner began to grin as the rune-like characters dancing in a ring around it began to dissipate. The Duchess landed flat on her face as both Syaoran and the Mock-Syaoran plastered themselves against the opposite wall, hands desperately crafted into make-shift cod-pieces. The doppelgangers stared in horror at the smiling face in the corner and began to cry in unison, "I can't with the cat watching!"

The Cheshire Wizard stepped into the light, suddenly looking less amused. Wordlessly, he closed the gap between himself and the Syaorans and with a single smooth motion slapped the duo across the face. And again. And again. And again…

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

…And again.

"Syaoran!"

And again.

"SYAORAN!"

He opened his eyes to find a very distressed mage staring down at him. "What happened?" he asked slowly, rubbing his eyes.

Fay flopped over onto the grass next to him. "We _told_ you not to eat that brownie…"

Syaoran squinted. He was fairly certain that he had not been wearing an entire pancake breakfast on the front of his shirt when he had left their lodgings this morning. "But it was packed in with the lunch…"

"Um, yeah," the lighter haired of their two nervous looking hosts started, absentmindedly scratching his head. "That was Kakei's brownie…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Syaoran wondered, sitting up and beginning to peel a strip of strawberry syrup that had dried to his face. "You all ate the brownies, too."

"Yes, well, the rest weren't quite as…potent," their host continued, staring at his hands, "No one should take what Kakei takes…"

The taller of their hosts stifled a chuckle, "But you have to admit, it was pretty funny when he sliced the plastic rabbit in half and then ran to hide from the cops…"

"You are such a bastard, Rikuou," the lighter haired man said, offering Syaoran a hand up.

"Pssht. You're just worried that you moan as much in your sleep as he does."

"I DON'T MOAN!"

"Naw, they're mostly lustful cries of passion." Rikuou deftly avoided the shorter man's fists. "Come on, Kazahaya, we'd better get them back; it's getting dark and Kakei's going to want help closing the store."

***Note: Kazahaya and Rikuou are from Legal Drug (which if you haven't read, shame on you; but I won't pimp it too much as you'll most likely just be frustrated and pissed off like the rest of us by its non-completeness in the end…) And yes, I am planning on having way too much fun with the next few chapters, why do you ask?**


	10. Chapter 9

**Holy crap – I can't believe I've already written 9+ chapters of this…I think my brain has been officially declared a toxic waste dump. Extra characters in this chapter are continuing from the last, and are all from Legal Drug, as are all mentioned bondage pictures (you know it's going to be a great manga when your nose is bleeding three pages in…). Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far – you all make it so much more fun to write! Updates will probably be slower throughout the summer, but will still continue! Anyway, enjoy!**

_Chapitre 9: Mage Induced Delirium  
Especially if it's inappropriate, then for sure, the empath will absorb the emotion._

The kitchen of the cramped apartment was definitely not big enough for both the burly teenager and himself, Fay decided as he ducked beneath another elbow careening perilously close to his nose. He shuffled sideways and leaned as far over the cluttered counter as he could in an effort to locate the tea kettle he had been informed was lurking somewhere in one of the two dusty, overflowing cabinets. This, however, left him completely unguarded against the rice pot which pummeled into his head in short order.

Rikuou looked embarrassed and muttered an apology. Two active bodies in the kitchen was a rare occurrence; usually the tasks of cooking and bitching about said cooking were split evenly between himself and his roommate and conducted from opposite sides of the apartment. While their roles generally switched from meal to meal, there had never been a need to coordinate as intricate a tango as was presently proving necessary to allow both his and the magician's bobbing and weaving forms to occupy the same limited space. Exasperated, he grabbed the tea kettle from its perch in the cabinet next to the one the wizard was searching and handed it to the blond.

"It's really ok, you know. I can take care of breakfast for everyone. You're our guests, after all."

Fay felt as though he might collapse from happiness. The kitchen may have been his domain, but _this _particular kitchen (if it could really be called that – the entire apartment was nothing more than a large open space divided by several curtains) was proving hazardous to his health; he'd always held it as an unwritten rule that the simple act of cracking eggs should never result in a fresh welt on his forehead because he'd forgotten to ensure there was no obscenely tall man mashing miso within arm's distance. Not that he'd ever had a reason to actually write the rule out, as help in the kitchen from obscenely tall men was a novelty in his case. Still…while he was grateful to their hosts (and to their bosses/landlords who had offered to put them up free of charge even after the "incident" with the brownie), he had no desire to become a professional, if accidental, punching bag. He carried the tea kettle over to a corner outlet and plugged it in, skipping as he went.

"Do you think you can wake Sleeping Beauty up?" Rikuou called over his shoulder, "It takes a bit of effort, so you might as well get an early start…"

"Sure." Fay waltzed past Kurogane and Syaoran folding up their futons and drew open the curtains to Kazahaya's "room." "Rise and shine!"

The snoring tangle of blankets did not reply.

"Come on," Fay insisted, motherly instincts kicking in. He shook the bed frame lightly, "You've gotta get up for work."

"Mmph."

"Just throw something at him," Rikuou instructed from the opposite side of the apartment, "Works wonders."

That seemed a bit extreme to the magician, so he opted to shake the sleeping boy's shoulders instead. "Wake up!"

Kazahaya groaned loudly and turned his face fully into the pillow, pulling it tightly against his head. Fay, however, was not so easily deterred and only shook the teenager more roughly. When this appeared to have no effect, he resorted to grabbing one of the pillow-clutching hands to drag the snoring lump out of bed (this being a technique Kurogane had perfected for use on the magician, Fay was both well versed in the technique and painfully aware of its efficiency). Muffled groans turned into gurgled moans as Kazahaya was dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge of the bed.

"Oh come _on_," Fay begged, cursing himself for accepting this task without question, "Just get…wait, are you…crying?"

Kazahaya's moans had solidified into loud sobs that convulsed through his chest and erupted from his lips with alarming vigor. Fay dropped the boy's hand and knelt at the side of the bed, gathering from the sock-muffled sounds of hurried footsteps that they were now gathering an audience. "Hey! What's wrong?" He placed a hand on the quaking forehead to check for a fever.

Sobs stretched into screams. At a loss, Fay gaped helplessly at his companions and moved to cradle the screaming teenager in his arms. He was about to suggest one of them go fetch Kakei, the owner of the drug store below them and the boys' current employer, when he heard the door to the apartment fly open and slam loudly against the wall.

"What kind of kinky games are you playing up here _this_ morning? We can hear you all the way down-" The smile disappeared from the burly man's face as he took in the scene. "Ah, shit…"

"You'll want to let go of him." A second, more feminine man pushed his way past the imposing figure and quickly crossed the room.

Fay quickly obliged him and stepped back from the wailing figure on the bed. "I don't know what happened, he was sleeping and when I went to wake him up…" he trailed off helplessly.

"We should have warned you," Kakei said, rearranging the boy back into his bed and laying a hand across his forehead, "He's an empath, and while he usually doesn't read things unless he tries to, he's extremely susceptible when he's not fully awake."

"…things?"

"Emotions, the past, cravings for chocolate…" the burly man in the entrance supplied, eying the wizard with faint amusement, "Man, you must be one fucked-up…"

Kakei held up a hand to silence the other man. "Saiga, please go down to the store and bring up a cold pack and a bottle of sleeping pills. This is going to take awhile to wear off."

"Sure, sure," Saiga grinned at Rikuou as he turned to leave, "Looks like he left you all alone to do the stocking today."

Rikuou grimaced. _That damned idiot…_

"About that," Kakei said, glancing at the trio of travelers, "Someone needs to stay here and watch him, to make sure he doesn't do anything…stupid," he glanced back at Kazahaya who had crawled into the corner of the mattress and was gibbering quietly to himself between choked hiccups and rocking back and forth, "If the rest of you could give us a hand downstairs, I'm sure I can make it worth your while."

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Kurogane frowned at the cellophane wrapped crate of boxes in front of him. After several well-intentioned, gentle attempts to coax the gibbering teenager into swallowing the sleeping pills on his own had proven disastrously ill-advised (just _how_ someone who was apparently unable to stand on his own two feet had managed to simultaneously shatter a ceramic mug and ram three suppository-sized pills up his roommate's nose, the ninja was not sure he _wanted_ to know…), he had lost patience and, somewhat regrettably in retrospect, pinned the kid down and held his mouth shut until he'd swallowed the handful of gel caps in his mouth.

This had, of course, segued directly into the "No One Likes a Violent Kuro-sama" song and dance from the mage, complete with scarcely concealed insults to his manhood and jazz hands. He had considered pointing out that the amount of blood gushing from the roommate's nose suggested that the mumbling, keening, moaning mess of a kid was the violent one (he had also savored the delicious prospect of pointing out that the kid had likely absorbed all this rage from the wizard himself), but had bitten his tongue in favor of ending the mage's angry flailing and finishing the squabble before it started.

Fucking jazz hands.

Unfortunately, he had been so distracted trying to silence the thundering parade of witty insults marching through his head that he hadn't immediately noticed when he was unanimously elected first shift babysitter for the brat. The rest of the men left him no opportunity to call for a recount as they quickly shuffled out of the apartment while the ninja coughed and sputtered his objections.

Fucking traitors.

Luckily, the creepy owner with the trippy hair seemed to be feeling generous this morning and had come to relieve him after only two hours. This was none too soon, the ninja noted, as the kid had started talking in his sleep and, while he wasn't sure whether the kid's dream was his own or something he had picked up from the magician, he _was_ confident that he didn't want to know how the surprisingly lucid narrative involving the garter belt and bullwhip was going to end.

So now he was here, assigned with unpacking obnoxiously pink-packaged feminine hygiene products in a creepy back room with an hour to go before his lunch break.

At least there weren't any creepy cats on the packaging.

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Syaoran never ceased to be amazed by some of the objects and technology they found while traveling between dimensions. Many of these things renewed his faith in humanity; medicines created to ward off illness and enhance the quality of peoples' lives, irrigation machines bringing water to desert farms, electric boxes to keep food from spoiling – these types of inventions fascinated him and left him marveling at the sheer ingenuity of people attempting to make a life for themselves. Then there were the…_less_ faith-affirming, but no less fascinating inventions. The box he was currently unpacking onto the pharmacy display shelves was full of the latter type of objects.

The instructions on the bottles may not have exactly been clear (he'd never been one for euphemisms, even his native tongue), but he was fairly certain that "intimate lubricant" had only one purpose. What he was less clear on was exactly what role the cherry flavoring played. And the grape flavoring. And the chocolate.

He _definitely_ wondered about the chocolate.

He turned to ask his shelf-stocking companion, only to see the taller boy dart quickly around the end of the shelf unit. Oh well, he could ask him later…

The massive arm that caught him around the waist seemed to come out of nowhere and Syaoran was more than slightly disturbed to find Saiga hulking over him, cheerfully leering through his dark sunglasses.

"I prefer the citrus flavor myself."

"I…"

"Of course…" Saiga continued, grinning as he reached toward the shelves, "these are fun too." He smeared a drop of the contents of one of the many tubes littering the shelves across Syaoran's cheek. Syaoran felt his face growning warmer on contact, though he wasn't entirely sure _how_, as he had been confident that most of his blood supply was already residing in his cheeks.

"Good, isn't it?" Saiga grinned. He flipped open the cap of a second bottle while the boy stood, momentarily frozen in terror, and quickly moved to swipe the slippery liquid onto Syaoran's other cheek. Saiga had underestimated his new target's reflexes, however, having grown accustomed to Kazahaya's well-rehearsed "deer caught in headlights" act when he was the receiving end or the older man's harassment; Syaoran turned his head quickly to avoid the coming assault…

Unfortunately, Saiga was quicker and this little maneuver left Syaoran with nearly a full face of the shimmering, slick liquid, rather than just a blotch dotting his cheek.

"It…it tingles!" Syaoran stammered. His hand automatically went to his face, trying to wipe away the stinging substance, but only succeeding in rubbing it deeper into the skin, where it continued to burn. He rubbed harder, dragging the mint (…_mint_? Who's bad idea had that been…?) flavored goo across his nose, lips, etc. "How do I get it off?" he wailed.

Saiga barely heard the boy above the gale of his own laughter. Oh man, this was almost as good as messing with Kazahaya…and he'd been afraid he was going to be bored with the other teenager out for the day. "Oh, that's meant to stay in place through quite a bit of rubbing, boy!" he choked out between cackles, "You've probably got a good fifteen minutes worth of action left!"

Syaoran scowled, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his green apron to still the urge to rub the offensive goo any deeper into his face. _Who would buy this stuff?_ He considered, acknowledged he probably would have, then revised: _Who would buy this stuff…twice?_ Saiga continued to chuckle, then clapped a hand back onto Syaoran's shoulder. "I need one of you two to man the counter. I have to leave the store for a bit."

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

"Hey look, Kuro-rin! They have your pomade!"

"Huh?" Kurogane had been grateful to have the mage's help unpacking the crates at first. After the first five minutes, however, the stary-eyed delight dripping from the blond with each new and fantastical product discovery had begun to grate.

"Your pomade!' Fay repeated, waggling the jar in front of the ninja's face. "Ooh! And my gel!"

Kurogane squinted at the bottle. "I've never seen you use that before," he said flatly.

"Yes, well, not since Piffle."

Ah. Piffle. Which they had landed in right after Shara… "Oh," he corrected hastily, "_That_ gel."

Kurogane's reverie was loudly interrupted only moments later as Saiga burst into the back room. "I need a hand," he announced.

"What kind of a hand?" Kurogane wondered.

"Nothing too complicated," the man in sunglasses informed the duo, "But some brawn would probably come in handy."

"Well then, I believe Kuro-sama is your man!" Fay waived to the two dark haired men as they exited to the front of the store.

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

"Oh come on, don't be such a pansy!"

"I thought you said you needed some brawn for this job?" Kurogane frowned at the melon in his hand, wondering how he'd ended up in a supermarket, of all places. It wasn't that he particularly minded markets, or even shopping for that matter. It was just…

"I do – someone's got to carry all this back."

…He had the vague impression he was being toyed with.

"No, no," Saiga snatched the melon from his hand. "You have to squeeze it – make sure it gives a little bit. Then you thump it to make sure it sounds hollow."

Kurogane tentatively rapped the melon with his knuckles. Surprisingly, it _did_ sound hollow. This was confirmed as the melon burst open, spraying its seeds into the ninja's face.

"See? Now that's a good melon."

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

"Everyone having fun back here?" Kakei called, poking his head into the back room. He was surprised to see only the blond wizard sorting through and unpacking the crates. "Just you? What happened to the big guy?"

"Saiga said he needed a hand with something," Fay answered, tossing a flattened carboard box toward the door, "They left about 20 minutes ago…"

"Oh?" Kakei seemed to consider this, then grinned wickedly. "_Oh_. Would you like to join me for some tea before lunch?"

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

"I am NOT wearing that."

"Just put it on and stop complaining."

"The hair net was bad enough. This goes too far."

"Suit yourself." Saiga continued stirring the mixture of canned tuna, mayonnaise, and other ingredients that Kurogane didn't recognize. He saw the ninja turn his attention back to the mangled melon on the counter in front of him, trying to determine the best way to salvage the gloppy remains. Lifting a loaded spoonful, he quietly raised it, took aim…

And landed a greasy, fishy *_blop_* smack on the front of the ninja's shirt.

"What. _The. HELL_?"

"See, if you'd had the apron on, you wouldn't be a mess."

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off?" the ninja railed, slamming the kitchen knife down onto the counter.

"That's part of it," Saiga snickered, wondering if there was any other possible reaction to being hit with canned tuna, "But mostly I'm trying to teach you to cook. You're not giving me very much to work with here."

"Ninja don't cook."

"Ninja also don't spend half an hour spiking their hair."

"This ninja does."

"I see. So this ninja is just a pretty face, then?"

"With good hair!" Kurogane growled, "Look, I can cook when I need to – this is just…frilly housewife nonsense."

"Or maybe you just aren't any good at it." Saiga sighed and set his spoon down into the bowl. "I know it's hard. Why don't you just go back downstairs and send that blond guy up here. He can cook, and you can take care of whatever 'fighting' needs to be done – I hear the shampoo really has it in for the 2-in-1 shamp-itioner lately."

"Whatever. Anything's better than this." Kurogane turned to leave.

"Poor, skinny guy like that probably needs a big strong man like you to defend him. Probably gets his ass handed to him time after time…"

"What are you talking about? He can hold his own perfectly fine," the ninja snapped.

"…Oh? So you're saying that he can fight _and_ cook? What a _man's_ man. How'd a one-trick pony like you end up with such a catch?"

Kurogane spun back to face his tormentor. "What are you…"

"Nothing, nothing. Just go get him, would you? There's no sense in doing this half-assed; I doubt anyone really wants to sample the culinary machinations of a kitchen n00b who couldn't tell a beet from a butt-plug if his borscht depended on it."

Kurogane hissed through clenched teeth and headed back toward the counter. "Gimme that knife."

"Put on the apron first."

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

"These look…great…" Fay trailed off as a plate of lopsided rice balls messily wrapped with what appeared to be shredded nori were set down on the backroom's table. "Did you make them yourself?"

Kurogane looked away, too well aware that his cheeks were now flushing to match the red of the frilly apron he _still_ hadn't been allowed to take off. He grunted and set down a plate of haphazardly chopped, mushy melon.

Fay couldn't help but smile to himself as he picked up one of the rice balls. The sight of the ninja in the apron had been enough to set him teetering over the cliff into a fit of giggles, but the thought of him banging about the small kitchen next to the gigantic Saiga was making it almost impossible to swallow his laughter. He quickly bit into the rice ball to occupy his mouth.

It tasted…well, it _tasted_ fine, to be honest. The filling was good, and the salt was just right. The _texture_ however… The rice was undercooked and chewy, and it seemed to have been packed together with tremendous force to make up for the lacking sticky-softness of properly cooked rice. The mage chewed very slowly to avoid any crunching sounds he might be making and grinned. "Very tasty, Kuro-pon!"

"The rice is undercooked," Kakei announced, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hmph." Kurogane plopped down onto the opposite couch and snatched one for himself.

"That reminds me," Saiga said, sneaking up behind Kakei and placing his chin on the slighter man's head as his arm snaked to wrap around his waist, "They're going to need a new rice cooker up there. _Someone_ didn't realize that the lines inside the pot are for measuring the water and not the rice… Don't worry, it was only a small electrical fire."

The ninja flushed an angry shade of red and ground his hands into fists.

"Hey now, no worries," Saiga chided, eyeing up the frustrated warrior, "We're having fried noodles for dinner, and I'm sure you'll do much better with _them_."

"What? You can go straight to hell if you think I'm cooking dinner as well!"

"That's fine then," Kakei chuckled, "You can babysit Kazahaya for the rest of the afternoon instead."

"Fine. Whatever."

Fay hoped the look of amusement on the owner's face wasn't concealing something more…sinister.

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

Syaoran had to admit that he didn't mind working retail. It definitely wasn't the most entertaining eight hours he'd ever spent, but it was certainly better than a night spent drinking with Seishiro. Probably, anyway. Definitely better than a night spent drinking tequila with Seishiro. Definitely, definitely better than drinking tequila with Seishiro with mint scented lube slathered on his face. Better than doing anything with mint scented lube slathered on his face.

Oh, wait…

He poked his head around the corner of a display shelf to ensure the behemoth of a man wasn't lurking somewhere nearby, waiting to ambush him again. He relaxed seeing his tormentor snoring blissfully behind the register, feet propped on the counter and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He picked up the nearly empty box of shampoo at his feet and moved toward the stock room.

"Yoo-hoo! Boys!" a surprisingly cheerful voice called from behind the store room doors. A second later, Kakei's head popped out from between the doors. His face melted into a smile at the sight of Syaoran, his lips stained an impressive shade of purple. "I have a job for you! Come on back here."

Syaoran and Rikuou trudged into the store room and set their boxes down, following Kakei into his office just beyond. The pungent smell of fermented grapes stung their noses as they shut the door behind them. Afternoon tea had evolved into afternoon wine (the expensive, Italian kind that both turned one's teeth blue and reduced most to giggling idiots in short order), and copious amounts thereof – if the number of empty bottles littering the room were any indication.

"Um…" Rikuou began, nervously eyeing not only the empty wine bottles but also the foam separators between the magician's toes and the fantastically obnoxious shade of green nail polish the blond was eagerly applying to them. "…You said something about a job?"

"Yes," Kakei smiled as he sat back down, placing a separator between his own toes and deciding on a nice shade of plum polish. "Don't worry, it's not one of _those_ jobs…" He trailed off as he began unscrewing the bottle cap. "I need you to take this-" he tossed a jar of pomade to the teenager, "and spike your hair. Then go upstairs and help the grumpy ninja with babysitting…and with cooking dinner."

"…You're letting him cook again after what he did this afternoon…?" Rikuou stammered, "Didn't I hear him say…"

"Oh, I think he'll be particularly eager for another opportunity to prove himself," Kakei said absentmindedly, eyes drifting closed.

"So this is something you saw then." This was not a question. Rikuou had been sent on enough bizarre missions by his psychic boss to be able to read his facial expressions with stunning accuracy. This particular expression was generally reserved for Kazahaya, and appeared most often when the older man knew the teenager had just accepted a job that would likely end in some form of embarrassment or another. He cringed.

Kakei merely smiled and laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe I just have a strong desire to eat something prepared by two ridiculously tall men with spiky black hair. Either way, it's coming out of your pay if you don't."

Fay giggled and held back a snort. Rikuou reluctantly took the jar of pomade and headed outside toward the staircase. Syaoran fidgeted, not leaving his position by the door.

"Syaoran, you should sit with us and have a drink – this wine is fantastic," the magician insited, waving the uncorked bottle of Chianti in front of him. "Did you know Kakei is a psychic? He knew were coming and everything," he babbled, "AND, he thinks he knows of something that might help you in your research."

Syaoran had _not_ been aware that their host was a psychic, and wasn't entirely sure that knowledge improved his opinion of the strange man snickering to himself as he refilled his glass. His expression must have given him away, as only moments later Fay rose to pull him toward the facing sofas, sniffing tentatively. "Syaoran, why do you smell like sex and candy?"

Syaoran froze. Kakei merely laughed and waved his hand. "That'll be the lube Saiga got him with earlier."

No, Syaoran's opinion of the drug store owner was _definitely_ not improving.

Fay seemed to sense this and reassured the boy, "Come on, he's more fun than Yuuko and only slightly more evil."

"Only slightly?" Kakei narrowed his eyes. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to try harder then." He patted the seat next to him on the sofa. "Come, let's discuss."

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

Kurogane watched in horror as the dark haired teenager attempted to massage an entire jar of pomade through his hair. The wax coated his dark locks and plastered them artlessly to his forehead. The teenager grunted, annoyed. Wasn't this stuff supposed to make your hair stand _up_?

"You know you're only supposed to use a little of that, right?" the ninja managed through his disgust at seeing an entire jar of perfectly good pomade wasted. He had been perfectly happy resting in the corner of the apartment, devouring issue after issue of "Fist of the North Star" while the spazzy empthy-thingy kid dozed in his bed before Rikuou had barged in and muttered something about "help." Kurogane had assumed the statement meant that _he_ would be the one getting help – babysitting could be fairly trying, even when your charge had been fully asleep for the past two hours – but was now beginning to wonder if maybe the kid just wanted a new hairstyle and for some unknown reason latched onto the ninja as the best person to help him achieve it. He frowned.

"How would I know that?" Rikuou countered, "It's not like I've ever used this crap before. Kakei just said it was necessary and I _need_ my paycheck."

Kurogane snorted and closed his eyes, fully intending to ignore the kid. But the muffled sounds of irritation and intoxicating citrus aroma wafting from the jar of wax hair product made this an impossible task. He cracked an eye open. "Oh for…don't do that, you're just going to give yourself a fauxhawk."

Rikuou stared back at the ninja, lifting a questioning eyebrow. He certainly wasn't about to ask for help from this grumpy bastard…

Kurogane sighed. "Go get a comb and come back here – we're going to have to scrape most of that out if you want it to stand up."

Rikuou was surprised by the ninja's…concern? generosity? hatred of bad hair? He wasn't sure what title to give it, but he obediently brought back a comb from the bathroom and sat as directed at the older man's feet. Kurogane wrinkled his nose as he took the comb and began to scour copious amounts of the thick wax from the black hair in front of him. "Give me that bottle," he instructed, and Rikuou passed the nearly empty jar back. He wordlessly deposited the gloppy substance back into the jar, careful to pick out any stray hairs that had become embedded.

"That's disgusting. You can just throw the excess out…"

"You DO NOT waste good hair wax," the ninja insisted gruffly, yanking the comb a bit more roughly through the hair. "You just DON'T."

Rikuou decided it was best to remain silent throughout the rest of his make-over.

Kurogane had managed to remove most of the excess pomade from the kid's hair and had it standing fairly well on end when a troublesome thought struck him. "Hey, you're not going so something weird like absorb my thoughts from this, are you?"

Rikuou looked over his shoulder with a wicked grin. "Why? Enjoying this a little too much?"

"Hmph. No, I just don't want to have to babysit two of you is all." He was finished, and handed the comb back to the teenager.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that," Rikuou said, standing to check himself out in the dusty mirror. "My ability is…a bit different from his." He focused on the comb in his hand, which promptly snapped in two.

"That's handy."

"Sometimes…"

"So, what are we supposed to do? Are two people really necessary to watch him sleep?"

"Kakei said I was supposed to help you with dinner…"

"I think I made it pretty clear that I won't be cooking. Ever again."

"Then I guess _I_ should get started on that…" Rikuou moved toward the kitchen, but hesitated as he saw Kazahaya beginning to stir out of the corner of his eye. He changed direction and knelt at the side of his roommate's bed, fully prepared to restrain him if the incoherent babbling and thrashing started up again. He was pleasantly surprised when Kazahaya's eyes opened and a smile lit up his face.

The pleasantness of the surprise gave way to terror seconds later as Kazahaya's hand snaked around his neck, pulling the dark haired teen closer to the bed. "Kuro-sama…" the lighter haired boy moaned, dragging his roommate into a passionate kiss.

Rikuou flailed, trying to pull away from this intimate embrace. Kazahaya had other plans, however, and locked his fingers through the other's newly spiked hair, falling out of the bed to straddle his roommate as the taller boy attempted to drag himself away from the bedside.

Kurogane's eyes widened, partly out of fear, but mostly from embarrassment as the babbling began once again. "OoooohKurosamaIloveitwhenyou'reroughwithmedidyoubringthegelthegeltheminttheminttheMINTyoureallyshouldhavethatwasverythoughtlessofyouohheycanIbeontopthistimeyousaidlasttimeitmightbefunandIreallyhaveatasteforsomeKurouketonightohtheringstheringstellmeyourememberedtheringsandthebeads…" Rikuou clamped a hand over Kazahaya's mouth. The taller teen had no intention of increasing his knowledge of his guests…_proclivities_…without his (or their) consent. This proved ineffective, however, as Kazahaya took this as an invitation to begin running his tongue over the fingers provided to him, eventually swallowing them whole and pulling back up, dragging his tongue again around the tips and…

"I'll be cooking," Kurogane announced, stomping toward the kitchen, "Good luck with him."

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

The wok sizzled as the noodles were tossed with the pork and vegetables. The welcoming aroma wafting from the stove spoke of a battle hard-fought, but eventually won.

The ninja in the frilly red apron smirked to himself as his traveling companions and their hosts entered the apartment. He had quickly given up on the kitchen knife, finding it too short and dull to effectively julienne the vegetables or chop the pork. He wasn't entirely pleased about the idea of cutting food with his beloved Ginryuu, but it was efficient and his control of a long sword was much more delicate than the shorter blade. He would find a way to retrieve it from the countertop where it was currently wedged after a particularly powerful chop later.

The entering foresome looked pleased – and surprised. Kurogane scoffed at their surprise – if they thought this was shocking, they were in for a real treat when they discovered what was going on behind the curtains…

They didn't have long to wait; a high pitched squeal pierced the air moments later. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?"

"That's my question," a lower pitched and far more rational voice replied.

Saiga hurried over to throw back the curtain and the group was presently treated to the sight of a half-naked Rikuou handcuffed to the wire frame of his bed, Kazahaya crouched above him like a serpent ready to strike. The smaller boy clumsily moved so that he was no longer straddling his roommate's thigh, and quickly cowered against the wall as he realized they had an audience.

Kakei merely smiled. "Next time, you might want to wait until you don't have company," he chided.

"What?" Kazahaya yelled, "I don't even know what the hell happened! This bastard must have drugged me!"

Saiga couldn't contain his laughter anymore. "Oh, I think you definitely instigated this yourself, you little pervert."

"I _did NOT_!"

Rikuou rolled his eyes. "Really? And where did the handcuffs come from? Under your pillow if I recall…"

"They did not! Why would I have handcuffs?"

"I told you he was kinky," Saiga elbowed Kakei who giggled.

Something clicked with Fay. "Wait, so you two aren't…?"

"NO!" the teenagers shouted in unison.

"Who would be with this jerk?" Kazahaya demanded.

Kurogane growled from the kitchen. "That's all on you, mage. He's been screaming _my_ name at the poor kid for the past half hour. It's obviously part of what he picked up from you this morning."

Fay turned back to the ninja. "I can't help but notice that you not only did nothing to stop him, but apparently have no shame about this at all."

The ninja merely shrugged. "Better him than me."

Rikuou smoothed down his hair. "You know Kakei, the look-a-like gag is getting really old. You couldn't have thought up something more original?"

Kakei looked surprised. "Why? It worked perfectly well, didn't it?" He thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Besides, you really can't deny how remarkably similar you and our grumpy guest look. And Saiga for that matter."

Saiga snorted. "Yeah, it's almost like someone has a fetish for big, tall dark guys paired with smaller, more effeminate men with light hair…"

"Who are you calling effeminate?" Kazahaya demanded.

Fay looked confused again. "But, if you two aren't together, then what's the deal with all the bondage pictures?"

"That's all just fanservice!" Kazahaya insisted. "I certainly never consented to any sort of bondage, or dog collars, or wet sexy looks, or licking! Big NO on the licking! And the glove biting! Definitely NO glove biting."

"You sure seem to have an intimate knowledge of all of these pictures for someone who never participated in them," Rikuou sneered.

"You shut up!"

Kakei chuckled and unlocked Rikuou from his restraints with a key he had mysteriously found in his pocket. "Oh boys…" he sighed, "You just haven't developed enough as characters yet. All we can do is pray that CLAMP someday sees fit to finish our story and _then_ we can judge whether all those pictures were just fanservice."

"That's what you always say," Rikuou muttered, watching closely as Kakei stuffed the handcuffs into the pockets of his long white coat.

"And I'm always right," the older man smiled again, "Anyway, now that Kazahaya has come back to himself, come eat something – I have a job for you two that involves something these four are looking for. We can discuss the details over dinner. And for gods' sakes don't touch anyone again."


	11. Chapter 10

_Chapitre 10: The Whereabouts of Mokona_

_Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, __consectetur adipiscing elit!_

"Where did that meat bun disappear to now?" Kurogane seemed less concerned than frightened as he slammed the skillet down onto the stove and began rummaging for some eggs in the miniature refrigerator. "Every time it disappears _we_ end up just a little bit more scarred for life."

"Would you keep it down?" Fay hissed at him over his mug of coffee, glancing nervously over his shoulder, "The three of them are still sleeping."

"It's seven in the morning! They had all night to sleep and instead they spent it on some wild goose chase through town to find that…_thing_," the ninja sputtered, glaring at a suspiciously cute statue of a monkey with bananas balanced on its head that was taking up most of the counter, "And then they came back here – stinking like a Bangkok brothel, mind you – and proceeded to make brownies at three AM!"

Fay chuckled. "That 'thing' was the price Kakei wanted for helping Syaoran out. And, they're seventeen…eighteen…somewhere in there? At any rate, they're _supposed_ to be doing things like that. Besides, why do _you_ know what a Bangkok brothel smells like?"

"Who doesn't? Their tuna is legendary."

The hot coffee that sprayed from the magician's nose definitely did not improve the timbre of their conversation, though he had to admit his sinuses had never felt clearer. "Kuro-pipi, are you, in fact, confusing the little Thai restaurant down the street with a…house of ill repute?"

Kurogane cracked an egg into the pan. "It's pretty reputable. I mean, most places around here do it raw, but this place…_damn_…and right on the table too…" he trailed off, looking for a spatula.

"You _are_ talking about curry, aren't you?"

"Hnn? Yeah, what else would I be talking about?" He shook some salt over the eggs before lifting them onto a plate and shuffling backwards to avoid knocking into the rice cooker perched on the edge of the counter.

"I don't think I have ever seen you this distracted…" Fay mused as his breakfast was set down in front of him. "Kuro-sama certainly has a one-track mind in the kitchen."

"What are you talking about?" Kurogane set his own breakfast down on the floor and sat cross-legged next to the magician, making sure to arrange the pickle dishes and soy sauce *just so*.

Fay smirked. "You do realize that you're not wearing anything under that apron, don't you?"

"You say that like you think it's an accident."

"Definitely best to keep the volume down then."

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Syaoran awoke to an eleven piece percussion ensemble playing inside of his head which quickly transformed itself into an eleven piece percussion ensemble plus electric bass with distressing reverb as he attempted to sit up. The apartment was silent except for the chirping of birds perched outside the windows. However, even this was too much stimulus to cope with in his current delicate condition, and he moaned loudly as he dragged himself Navy-Seal style with his elbows to the bathroom.

After thoroughly purging the remnants of the night before, Syaoran was left to clumsily reconstruct the events that had led him to this point. Fortunately, the current tilted position of his head into the porcelain bowl had the effect of staunching the blood flow away from his brain, and as more and more red cells accumulated in the swamp of alcohol and curry currently sloshing around his most important nerve center he found he was able to achieve a bit more clarity of thought. Not that that was really a feat, considering the unrelenting parade of pornographic Mickey Mouse cartoons dancing through his head only moments before. Still, it was an improvement, and he wondered sourly why no one had told him about this incredibly Zen position before.

_Leopard print._

"Huh?" He jerked his head back in surprise. Which part of last night had involved a leopard print…no…surely not. Spinning, he set his head back onto the cold rim and closed his eyes.

_Pole_.

A pole? He began to shake his head, then thought better of it as his stomach began a second ascent into his throat and settled his forehead back into his palms. He remembered a monkey statue in a Thai restaurant, and it's overly friendly owner. They'd needed a distraction so that Rikuou could snatch the statue away…

_Jaegerbombs_.

_Ah, yes_. Therein lay the problem. A row of evil shot glasses filled with evil brown liquor backed up by evil glasses of…something nasty. The evil way the evil liquor had burned his throat on its way down, the evil way his brain had convinced him that drinking more would make the scary man leering at him over the bar disappear, the evil way his feet had carried him up onto said bar and…

_Oh HELL no._

Shitshit_shit_! There would have to be some sort of evidence, right? He didn't own any leopard print underwear – especially not of _that_ variety – it had to be a hallucination! He was still wearing his pants! Thank gods! And _underneath_…

The spotted string rising above the waist of his pants dug into his hip with such fury he was amazed he hadn't noticed it before.

"Oh…" he slumped against the tile floor.

"Are you dead?"

Syaoran opened his eyes a slit to find Rikuou standing over him.

"Don't worry, we nabbed the statue _and_ you before the audience saw anything good."

Somehow, this revelation did not ease the slow twisting of Syaoran's stomach.

"Which means," Rikuou continued, "that Kakei got his price, and we can go find your item tonight."

This _did_ brighten Syaoran's mood, if only a little.

"You'll be alright," the taller boy said, slipping an arm under Syaoran's shoulder and helping him to his feet, "We made hangover brownies just for you."

"…Hangover…brownies…?" Visions of cat ears and clones swam in his head and he suddenly felt a renewed urge to place his head back onto its gleaming white throne.

"Yeah…we put…_love_ into them. You'll feel better in no time."

"It's not the same 'love' that was in the last batch, is it?" Syaoran croaked.

"No, that was 'sadism' in the last batch. This is more like…a strong soluble aspirin."

"Well, I suppose that wouldn't be so bad…"

"Definitely better than lying on the bathroom floor all day trying to piece together a night you'd be better off forgetting." Rikuou gave up trying to lead Syaoran back into the main room of the apartment and opted to sling the boy over his shoulder instead.

Syaoran considered fighting against this new arrangement, but found himself going slack instead. He closed his eyes and wondered if and when he managed to split his father/clone off of himself the other him would have the same memories of last night, and whether he would be appalled or proud…

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Kurogane had been staring at the little pink monkey for what felt like hours. In fact, it had only been several minutes since Kakei had dragged down the metal gate over the front of the Green Drug Store, declared the shop closed for the day, and enthusiastically herded the ninja and magician into the back office, but something about the statue had dominated his stream of consciousness, holding him at attention, and leaving him with a sinking feeling.

It wasn't so much the disgusting pink color of the monkey's fur, or the particularly garish shade of yellow the artist had chosen to paint the bananas balanced on its head that was upsetting him. It wasn't the ridiculous smile, or the obscene _size_ of the thing, or even the fact that this abomination had been specifically requested by the psychic owner of the drug store as a fee to take up Syaoran's case.

No, what was really upsetting Kurogane was the manner in which the little pink bastard was currently climbing the drapes, shattering the light fixtures, and screaming terrible monkey screams as it hurled itself around the office.

"So, as you see, it will have to be sealed," Kakei stated simply, apparently unimpressed by the destruction of his office. He turned his head to the wizard, "Do you think you might be able to help with that?"

"That shouldn't be a problem," Fay replied, far too nonchalantly for the ninja's taste.

"_You two_…" Kurogane huffed, balling his hand into a fist. "Why don't I just knock it out right now?"

"Oh no," Kakei said, shuffling to look at the ninja, "That won't do at all. Chi Chai Monchan here needs to be awake for tonight."

Kurogane bristled. "And why is that?"

"Because it's going to lead those three to the little item Syaoran has requested." The store owner grinned.

"I thought I heard you say you'd already sent the address to their cell phones."

Kakei raised an eyebrow. "I did. But, I think they'll need a little…extra motivation to go out tonight," he closed his eyes and smiled into a deep breath, "And besides, it's _so_ much more fun this way, don't you think?"

Kurogane stomped out of the office, muttering something about "Worse than the Dimensional Bitch" as he slammed the door.

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Dinner that evening was a lively affair, mostly because the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator had been ransacked earlier in the evening by three starving beasts of young men apparently intent upon devouring the entire week's supply of groceries in one go. This left one red-eyed ninja, still smarting from the embarrassment of having a pink monkey with a fondness for waxed hair and slippery fingers perched on his shoulder as it massaged parts of his scalp he had forgotten existed, even more annoyed than usual. It also had the effect of producing some _very_ interesting combinations of four letter words from the same ninja's mouth as he barreled about the apartment, snatching bags of chips and half-chewed leeks away from their ravenous wielders.

Fay had settled back to enjoy the show in the beginning, but was becoming increasingly concerned by the desperate combinations of food the trio were concocting to skirt the ninja's rage.

"Syaoran, are you really sure you want to put strawberry milk into your ramen?"

"Yes! It tastes _amazing_!" the conviction in his voice was only matched by the energy with which he abruptly pirouetted, his stocking feet sliding against the wooden floor as he did and slopping most of the pink milk from the bowl.

"Give me that." Kurogane snatched the bowl away, holding it high above the urgently grasping hands that followed it. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you three? You have a job to do in 6 hours!"

"Oooh…Kuro-sama is scary!" Syaoran muttered as he collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.

"That's it. Bedtime for Bonzo." One massive hand gripped onto the scuff of Syaoran's neck and lifted him off the ground.

"No, Daddy! Please don't hurt me!" Syaoran continued to giggle maniacally as he was tossed toward his folded futon. He landed with a thud, then rolled to snuggle the mattress close to his torso.

"SLEEP!"

Rikuou and Kazahaya slunk dejectedly to their beds, trying to avoid eye contact lest they dissolve into a fit of giggles and suffer the wrath of the angry shinobi as well.

Fay sniffed at the tray of brownies. "Oof. These were made with a whole _lot_ of love…"

"That's what happens when you try baking at three in the morning." Kurogane snatched the tray and tossed it into the garbage.

"Somehow I don't think it was a mistake." Fay rummaged through the ravaged cupboards in the vain hope they might have left some tea unmolested. "Ah…lovely," he sighed, finding a still intact package, "Though I don't suppose they've left any milk."

"There's never any unflavored milk," Kazahaya yelled from behind his curtain, "Stuff is nasty."

"Yeah," his roommate agreed, "It comes from cows' boobs."

"You mean udders, you idiot."

"Boobs, udders, whatever."

"Boobs are different than udders!"

"No, they're, like, the same. Boobs are just chest udders." A pause. "Chudders."

"Chudders!"

"Yay chudders!" Syaoran chimed in from the floor before resuming his light snoring.

Kazahaya let out a thoughtful _hmm_. "Does that mean if you culture breast milk you get chuddar cheese?"

"Um, yeah. Idiot."

"Ohmigod, chuddar cheese sounds amazing. You could have chuddar cheese and crackers!"

"Chuddar Cheez-its…"

"Chuddar Bay Biscuits…"

"Mac and Chuddar…"

"Chuddar wurst!"

"Mmmm…chuddar wurst…"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Two red eyes flamed between the curtains separating the not-quite-trying-to-sleep drug store employees from the living area. A flash of light caught against a long, thin metallic object being slowly raised through the gap. "Or _so help me_, chuddar wurst is going to be the only kind of 'wurst' either one of you has left!"

Kurogane trudged back to the kitchen, enveloped by a sudden and surprisingly peaceful silence. He accepted the cup of tea offered to him and slunk against the wall. "Aren't you going to yell at me for being a violent, unmanageable dog now?"

Fay chuckled and sipped his tea. "No, I actually thought that was quite restrained. This might actually be the one time I think your subtle threats of emasculation didn't go quite far enough."

"…You didn't eat the brownies too, did you?"

"Just one."

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

"Why do we have to bring this monkey thing with us again?" Kazahaya wondered aloud as he yanked on the leash tethering him to the beast. One in the morning, he decided, was definitely not the ideal time to be playing tug-of-war with an unduly obstinate primate in the middle of the road.

"It's supposed to lead us to whatever we're looking for," Rikuou rubbed his eyes, still somewhat _loved_-over.

"But it keeps pulling away from the address Kakei gave us and…ARGH!" Kazahaya gave a vicious tug on the chain as the monkey pulled toward a temple gate. "Stupid monkey." He moved to pick up the struggling beast, but was caught by sharp teeth as his hands wrapped around its waist. The monkey took advantage of his momentary pain-induced stupor and climbed to his head, yanking violently on the teenager's hair, and proceeded to point toward the gate and scream.

"Let's go in here," Syaoran said, "This place looks kind of familiar…"

"Yeah, whatever, just get this thing off of me," Kazahaya whined, fighting with the monkey for control over the direction of his face. The monkey seemed satisfied by Syaoran's abrupt shift in direction and abandoned its grip, slinking down to rest on Kazahaya's shoulder. It chirped happily as the trio stole through the gate.

"What are we looking for again?" Syaoran whispered, very aware of the lights burning through the windows of the temple.

"A storage shed," Rikuou answered, falling to the rear of the group as he paused to squint into the darkness. "That thing there?" He pointed toward an outline in the distance.

Kazahaya shrugged. "Who knows? Let's take a look." The monkey on his shoulder squealed appreciatively. "It's locked," he whined, taking a step backward.

"Of course it's locked, idiot," Rikuou muttered, holding his hand over the door handle, "What's the point of even having a shed if you don't lock it?" The door handle pulsed and snapped as the locking mechanism within was destroyed. Rikuou pushed the door open and motioned to Syaoran and Kazahaya to follow him inside.

From the minimal amount of moonlight spilling into the room, the trio could make out that the interior walls of the shed were lined with bookshelves, which in turn were stuffed with books and scrolls and overflowing boxes. The boxes spilled over onto the floor, creating a darkened labyrinth of cardboard and wood around the shelves.

"…and we're just supposed to sort through all of this and automatically know what it is we're looking for when we find it?" Kazahaya whined.

Rikuou smirked. "You could just try touching a couple things…"

"I'm not reading anything else ever for as long as I live…AHH!"

"What's wrong?"

"I tripped over something. Where's my flashlight?" Kazahaya frantically stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"No!" Rikuou grabbed his arm and hissed, "There are windows – we can't chance being seen."

"But _we_ can't see anything!"

"Aww, are you scared of the dark again?"

"What? No! I just…"

"Do you want me to hold you?"

"Get off of me, you big lug! Oh, _shit_…"

"What did you do now?"

"I dropped the leash."

"You idiot. Is it still by you?"

"I don't know! I think…WAHH!" Something hard collided with Kazahaya's head.

"You tripped again?"

"No, something hit my…_dammit_!" Something else hard collided with Kazahaya's head. "It's throwing things at me!"

"I see it!" Syaoran hissed, squinting toward one particularly overcrowded shelf. In the blackness he was just able to make out a small black shadow climbing the shelves, sniffing objects before haphazardly tossing them over its shoulder. "It's searching the shelf…"

"It must know what it's looking for," Rikuou said plainly, "Otherwise we wouldn't have had to bring it. Just move in around it so we can catch it once it finds whatever it is."

The trio crept silently toward the bookshelf, careful to avoid the maze of clutter on the ground. They had nearly reached their target when the monkey burst into a sudden flurry of activity, shouting and jumping up and down excitedly.

"It must have found it," Rikuou hissed, "Let's grab it and get out of…_watch out_!" His warning, however, was uttered a moment too late, as the bookshelf had already begun to tip forward and within seconds had crashed to the floor, flinging its contents into and around the started trio.

"Is everyone alright?" Syaoran whispered tentatively.

"Fine."

"I told you to _get off of me_, you big lug!"

"I'm not on you."

"Yes you are!"

"Really? Then why do you sound so far away?"

"Well, someone's arm is around my waist…"

"Yo."

"Who was that?"

"Who was _what_?"

"Yo."

"That."

"How should I know? There are no tags on any of the dialogue."

"That's because it's dark. But I definitely heard a fourth voice…and there is definitely still an arm around me…oh screw it." Kazahaya flicked on the flashlight. Syaoran started in surprise.

"Doumeki?"

"Yo."

"What the…? How…? Why…?"

"Your monkey is ransacking my shrine."

"Of course it is…"

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

Mahjong tiles clinked quietly against a table. A ninja let out a deep sigh of despair.

"I don't have any more money."

"Then it's your shirt. Pay up."

"Oh come on."

"Keep whining and it'll be your pants as well." Kakei grinned evilly and shuffled the tiles.

"Shouldn't they be back by now?" Fay wondered aloud as Kurogane stripped. He appreciated a good floor show as much as the next man, but the vein in the ninja's forehead was pulsing threateningly.

"Not just yet."

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

"Explain to me again why we are doing this?" Syaoran demanded, eyeing the empty cellophane bags collecting around his feet and wincing as their gummy red contents were wetted and stuck to his skin.

Doumeki scowled. "Because monkeys will do anything for Swedish Fish."

"Why would you even know something like that?"

The taller man shrugged. "I thought everyone knew that."

Syaoran sighed. "Is it really necessary to tie me to the tree?"

"This way you can't make any sudden movements and scare it off," Rikuou insisted, though a smile was clearly threatening to turn the corners of his mouth.

"Can I at least have my shirt back?"

"No." Doumeki licked the final fish and plastered it across Syaoran's chest. "It's better this way."

"For who?"

"Everyone."

With that, Doumeki, Rikuou, and Kazahaya slunk back under the cover of the bushes to wait. Syaoran shivered in the cool night air and silently cursed the concealed trio, monkeys, Swedish Fish, and anything else that had the misfortune of creeping into his mind at that moment. Fortunately, he was not left to suffer long, as the cercopithecoid bane of his existence crept out from under the porch in short order, sniffing excitedly at the trail of red gummy fish. Slowly, it made its way along the trail, stuffing its mouth full of gelatinous fishy goodness as it went. Syaoran was forced to stare in mute horror as it began its ascent up his legs – he really had no idea how powerful the grasping hands and feet of the little buggers were until he felt them tugging and twisting first at the material of his pants and then at the exposed skin of his chest.

_Keep still_, he reminded himself sternly, _Don't scare it away_…

He heard muffled laughter from the bushes.

_Keep still… _

He grimaced as the little pink bastard gripped onto an especially sensitive nub of skin and twisted…

O_h sod it._

"OWWWWW!"

The muffled laughter grew to an outright roar.

The monkey disappeared into the night.

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

Fay looked up from his tiles as a clamor of shouting and banging ascended the staircase outside the apartment. The door was flung open unceremoniously and four dour-faced young men stomped in, scowling and murmuring curses at one another.

Kakei raised an eyebrow. "Rough night, boys?"

"It was a waste," Rikuou grunted, pushing past the others and stomping toward his side of the curtain. "The monkey is gone, the thing _he_ wanted is gone, and I'm going to bed."

Kakei snickered. "Oh? What's that over there then?" He motioned toward the kitchen counter.

A garish statue of a pink monkey with bananas balanced on its head stared at the group. A small wooden box sat next to it, its top flipped open to reveal an oversized jelly pacifier in the shape of a cat's face.

"It's…back to normal?" Syaoran gulped. "You mean it came back here on its own? And what the hell _is_ that thing?" He eyed the contents of the box suspiciously.

"You're going to have to figure out what it is and how to use it by yourself – I just provide the service of finding it," Kakei smiled sweetly, "And as far as Chi Chai Monchan goes, we left a trail of Swedish Fish back to the store… "

Doumeki scowled.

"And then I sealed it," Fay finished, not lifting his eyes from the mahjong table.

Kurogane shifted, eyes also not daring to leave the table. "What's…Doumeki doing here?"

"Well, it was his family's shrine that we broke into, and…" he paused. Were his companions…_blushing_? "He has a message for us from Watanuki and wanted to say hi…" he trailed off, growing concerned by the way the ninja and the magician were now fidgeting uncomfortably and trying quite obviously to avoid any sort of eye contact. He considered chalking this up to the fact that Kurogane was currently sporting only three mismatched socks for clothing, but quickly discarded this explanation; the ninja's threshold for embarrassment (and public exposure) was generally far higher than this.

"Watanuki says your Mokona has to go. It's been eating and drinking him out of house and home and leaving stains on all of his carpets."

"_That's_ where the manjuu is?" Kurogane growled in disbelief.

"He also suggests you get it litter-trained."

Kurogane seethed. "I can only imagine what this is going to cost us…"

"Calm down, Kuro-tan," Fay soothed, "It's not like we knew we were even in the same dimension…"

"Actually," Doumeki continued, "The price has already been paid."

"Good." Kurogane kept his eyes averted as Doumeki said his goodbyes and left. "I _told you_. Every time that manjuu disappears…"

"We end up more scarred…" Fay finished, shaking his head.

Syaoran was confused. "What do you mean 'scarred?'"

The ninja and magician locked eyes, sharing a glance, the depth of which only those who have stumbled upon their friend's secret stash of homemade porn can truly appreciate. "Never mind," Fay insisted, waving his hand and forcing a grin. Some things were best left a mystery. "What was the price he was talking about, I wonder?"

Syaoran clutched his chest protectively. "Never mind that."

Some things were indeed best left a mystery.

**A/N: Yes, monkeys will indeed do (almost) anything for Swedish Fish (No, really. They will – I have the video to prove it). Unfortunately, they will also piss on your head, pull your hair, and attempt to sexually assault you without warning. Please don't try this at home…**


	12. Omake the Second

**The Extra-Special, Abominably Smutty, Astoundingly Cracked-Out Omake (Part Deux)**

Kurogane felt he could lie like this forever. It was fast approaching two in the morning – at least according to the neon light flashing on the alarm clock across the room, which he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to trust _anyway_ – but he was fighting back sleep. All the bizarre worlds they traveled to, all the infuriating people they encountered, the AMS bouts, the Sanrio MegaCorp nonsense…everything seemed worth it to be able to lie here like this – blond hair pooled across his chest, a pale leg curled up over his own, warm breath tickling his skin as the man settled in the crook of his arm murmured in his sleep.

He smiled. Yes, all of that was definitely worth it.

He let his eyes drift closed. Slumber was fast overcoming him, and though he would have liked to savor a few more moments of peaceful silence nestled next to the wizard, he found he wasn't able to hold off the inevitable slip into unconsciousness any longer.

"_DON'T CALL MY NAME, DON'T CALL MY NAME, ALEJANDRO – JACKASS!"_

Kurogane's eyes snapped back open as he felt Fay twitch against him. A thundering herd of musical elephants appeared to be making their way up the staircase outside.

"What the hell…?" the magician murmured, rolling away and rubbing his eyes. "I thought they said they were spending the night at the shop…"

Kurogane grunted as he pulled his robe on – just in time for the apartment door to slam against the wall and a staggering quartet of songbirds to flutter through the opening.

"_ALE-ALEJANDRO! ALE-ALEJANDRO!"_

Kurogane drew his sword.

Syaoran gulped. "Shhh!" he hissed, desperately trying to silence his overly-excited comrades.

"_DON'T WANNA KISS, DON'T WANNA TOUCH, JUST SMOKE ONE CIGARETTE AND HUSH!_" Kazahaya screamed, paying Syaoran as little attention as he was able while skipping around the kitchen and continuing to sing. "_DON'T CALL MY NAME, DON'T CALL MY NAME, KURO-PUU"_

There was a whisper of movement, and several locks of brunet hair shimmered in the moonlight as they floated to the floor.

"It's _Kurogane_. And next time it'll be more than your hair."

Kazahaya stared, horrorstricken. "My…my…my…"

"Kuro-rin…"

"What? At least it's symmetrical now."

Fay frowned. The ninja had a point… "Where's Mokona?" he demanded instead, "I thought the three of you were going to Watanuki's to collect it and pay a visit."

"We were…" Syaoran said, staring guiltily at his feet, "But…we got kind of…_lost_ on the way." He really didn't want to explain to the wizard how they had arrived just in time to catch Doumeki as he was hurled out the front gate amidst a barrage of broken bottles and dripping bags of garbage. He really, _really_ didn't want to explain how they'd had to spend the next few hours sneaking through back alleys searching for clothes to hide the young man's, er, shame… "We'll go back tomorrow."

"That's fine." Fay was too tired to argue. He turned his attention toward the argument festering in the far corner of the kitchen.

Kazahaya was indignant. "Do you have _any idea_ how _long_ it took me to grow that lock out?"

Kurogane raised an eyebrow.

"That was my signature look!"

"Well, it was-" Kurogane meant to say "stupid," but was silenced by a pale hand clapped over his mouth and an insistent tug at his elbow. The wizard had already collected their futon and blankets and was pulling him toward the door.

"Come on, I have a key. We can sleep in the office downstairs."

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

"Did you hear that?"

Syaoran cracked open an eye. The room was painfully bright and he groaned as he rolled onto his side to seek out the owner of the voice.

"There it is again!"

Syaoran stared at the trio in front of him, vaguely concerned that they were experiencing some sort of psychotic break with reality or wallowing in the aftermath of some particularly potent brownies. At any rate, if their muffled cries hadn't jolted him out of his sleep, the sight of the three of them clad only in boxer shorts, tube socks, and what appeared to be cricket pads certainly would have. "What time is it…?" he mumbled, trying not to stare.

Several loud cries sounded through the window. This was followed by several muffled thuds, which stirred the already giddy trio into a full-on frenzy.

"It's on the roof!"

"No shit! What are we going to do about it?"

"_What's_ on the roof?" Syaoran demanded, getting to his feet. _5 am?_ He scowled at the clock.

"It's the monkey!" Kazahaya hissed, eyes darting across the ceiling tiles as if he expected the beast to come crashing through at any moment.

Another loud cry echoed through the room.

Rikuou grabbed a cricket paddle and headed for the door.

"Hold on," Syaoran groaned, "I'll go."

"But…"

"It's fine." All he wanted was to go back to sleep, and he didn't trust the others to deal with whatever was lurking on the roof in a manner that didn't involve sustaining grievous injuries which would require hospitalization and only keep him awake longer in the end. "Besides, I have a sword…" he murmured, drawing his blade from his hand.

"Holy crap, did that just come out of his arm?"

"What the hell?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes and flung open the door. He stomped up the staircase to the roof, muttering to himself about the clear need for walls between rooms and cursing the primate's general existence as he did. He reached the top and huffed angrily, searching for any sign of the little pink menace.

A flicker of movement from the far corner of the rooftop caught his eye. He gritted his teeth, preparing for the onslaught of furious groping hands and angry simian protests, then felt the blood drain from his face and his jaw fall slack as he realized what he was looking at.

He stared.

Slowly, as his wits returned to him, Syaoran turned and began the long, tortuous climb back down the stairs. He tossed his sword haphazardly into the corner as he entered the apartment, eyes glazed over and unfocused.

"It's not the monkey," Rikuou informed him, hefting the still-sealed statue in his hands.

"…_really_…?"

"Sorry – it was buried under some newspapers on the counter… What was it? A squirrel?"

"No. It definitely wasn't a squirrel." Syaoran climbed back onto his futon and pulled the blanket up over his head.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't talk to me right now."

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Kurogane sighed as he arranged sandwiches onto a platter and tried to avoid eye contact with the sullen pile of grump currently huddled against the far wall. He wasn't certain why the kid was still here – everyone else had disappeared downstairs to work hours ago – and he was growing evermore annoyed by the way the kid's eyes fixed blankly on the wall, seeming to take in everything and nothing at the same time.

"Oi," he grunted, lifting an eyebrow. Doumeki's gaze rose to meet his own, then fell to rest on the floorboards. This disturbed Kurogane, who was well versed in the primeval language of Gruntstompandscowl, but sadly ignorant of its lesser-known Sulkwhineandbitch dialect. He abandoned the platter and crouched next to the dark haired boy. "_Oi_!" he growled, with emphasis.

Doumeki's eyes lifted once more to meet the ninja's. His upper lip pulled toward his nose and without warning began to tremble.

"Oh _SHIT_…"

Doumeki scowled.

Kurogane grunted. Mostly out of solidarity – he wasn't particularly eager to encourage this little display of…_emotion_…but couldn't deny the bonds of manliness that had always tethered him to the archer. He stalked back to the counter to grab the plate of sandwiches, pausing only to fish the remnants of a case of beer from the depths of the refrigerator before plopping onto the floor next to Doumeki.

Doumeki stopped scowling long enough to nod his thanks before tentatively picking up one of the sandwich quarters. He inspected the both the morsel and the ninja thoroughly, as if he expected one of the two to suddenly pose an imminent danger to him, but in the end only shrugged and stuffed the sandwich into his mouth.

Kurogane sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "Bad day?"

Doumeki scowled.

"I see."

Doumeki snatched a second sandwich quarter.

Kurogane grunted.

Doumeki huffed, crushing his sandwich into his fist and nibbling at the edges of the resulting pellet.

"He chucked you out with no clothes?"

Doumeki glared.

Kurogane twisted the cap off a beer and gulped heavily. "Why?"

Doumeki broke the neck of a bottle against the wall and hurriedly sucked away the foam as it threatened to spill over the jagged edge.

Kurogane slammed his bottle against the floorboards. "The cut-offs _again?_"

Doumeki gave a curt nod.

Kurogane growled.

Doumeki whimpered.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that last."

Doumeki sighed and looked Kurogane directly in the eye. "What would you do if a person you really cared about was slipping into a terrifically angst-filled depressive episode because they were obsessed with a dead person?"

Kurogane considered this. "I imagine I would smack them upside the head a bit, and if that didn't work I would slice the dead person in half right in front of them to get my point across."

Doumeki gaped.

"Of course," Kurogane added thoughtfully, "I'd probably chop off one of my arms or something so they'd know I only did it because I cared…"

"An arm?"

"Oh, yeah. Fangirls eat that shit up."

Doumeki eyed the ninja suspiciously. "But she's already dead. Gone. Disappeared. There's no body to slice in half. And I like my arms."

Kurogane shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not very good at this sort of thing…"

Doumeki waved a hand. "It's fine. It's just some days-"

He was cut off by the door creaking open and a mop of blond hair peeking through the crack.

"Kuro-pon! We're _starving_ and you're up here bogarting lunch and drinking beer?" Fay closed the door behind him. "…ooh, I want a beer too…" He plopped next to the two men on the floor and fished a bottle for himself.

Kurogane stared. "What's on your lips?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. I was just playing with some of Kakei's new products. Look – it sparkles!" He pursed his lips.

Kurogane rolled his eyes and swigged his beer.

"Oh come now," Fay chided, leaning in closer, "You like it."

"I-" he was cut off as the wizard's lips pressed against his own.

"Now Kuro-sama is sparkly too," Fay giggled. "Anyway," he said, getting to his feet, "I'll take these downstairs if you two are going to be a while."

Kurogane rubbed furiously at his lips as Fay disappeared back through the apartment door, smearing the hateful, sticky, sparkly, cherry flavored (…hmm, maybe "hateful" was too strong a descriptor, he'd always had a fondness for cherries…just not the sparkly variety…) goo across the back of his hand.

Doumeki snorted. "Ever miss that arm of yours?"

"Some days more than others."

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Syaoran approached the shop cautiously. Watanuki may have been his other self, but, for the life of him, Syaoran could never figure out exactly what was going on in the other's head. This inability had been amplified recently, as Watanuki had grown out of his normal spazziness and settled comfortably into a permanent state of…well…_bitchiness_.

Syaoran had always blamed himself for this; he'd had an inkling all those years ago when the two of them had been trapped in Fei Wong's nothingness that Watanuki had chosen the wrong price. At the time, however, he'd had more pressing matters to attend to and had decided that Watanuki was more than capable of taking care of his _own_ damn self. He really wished he'd known more about the effects of being a shut-in for the rest of one's life at the time…

Well, it was too late now. He took a deep breath and strode purposely through the gate.

He was surprised when he found the front entrance empty – generally by this point Maru and Moro should have attached themselves to his legs in greeting or he should have at the very least been the target of one of the black Mokona's (none too) stealthy dive-bomb glomps. He kicked off his shoes and hurried in, now worried about exactly _what_ he was going to find inside.

He froze halfway through the receiving room as a loud crash rang through the shop, followed by an impressively long-winded stream of cursing and squealing. Syaoran tip-toed toward the kitchen – the apparent epicenter of the commotion.

"…goes in there! _FOOD_! You know, the stuff you whine and bitch for me to make and then stuff down your gullets with no appreciation of how hard I've worked! Now I have to bleach the entire refrigerator! Twice! Probably three times! What the _hell_ is wrong with you two? Did you think I'd _like_ eating food sprinkled with essence of Mo…oh hi Syaoran!"

"Um…hi…" Syaoran managed as he gaped at the struggling Mokonas suspended in Watanuki's clenched fists by their ears. "I hope I'm not interrupting…"

"Oh no, but I'm glad you're here. That means _this_ little hussy can go home with you later." He jogged the white Mokona up and down for effect.

"Mokona is not a hussy! Mokona is-"

Watanuki cut off the protest by dumping both Mokonas into a cabinet and slapping a padlock across the handles. "That's about enough of you two for the day." He turned toward Syaoran. "Are the others with you?"

"No…" Syaoran looked at the floor. "I needed…some alone time."

Watanuki raised an eyebrow. "This sounds intriguing. I'll get the snacks and tea."

Muffled bangs and shouts were becoming slowly more audible, and Syaoran turned to look at the rattling cabinet where the Mokonas had been stashed. "Is it okay to leave them in there…?"

"It's fine. I was going to throw all that stuff out anyway."

"Throw it out…?"

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

"Kuro-tan, have you seen Syaoran?" Fay stumbled backward into the storeroom, nearly dropping the oversized cardboard box he was barely managing to maneuver.

"No, he disappeared after lunch…give me that!" Kurogane quickly snatched the box away from the wizard before the other tipped over, but was surprised by the weight and was forced to set it down just as quickly. "What's _in_ this?"

Fay chuckled. "It's pomade. At least now I understand why your neck is so huge – having to hold up that amount of weight in your hair day after day must be tiring even for a ninja."

"Hmph." Kurogane narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of hair, what is _that_ thing?"

"What?" Fay fondled the large barrette holding his hair messily at the nape of his neck. "It was getting in the way…"

"It's very…pink. And floofy."

"Well, it was the only one I could find in the back room. The others all had tags on them."

Kurogane sighed and went back to emptying cardboard crates.

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

Syaoran stared blankly at Watanuki. "You _do_ realize that I don't believe a word that just came out of your mouth, right?"

Watanuki's face fell. He'd considered the story about Doumeki spilling Mokona's beer in the bath and subsequently being beaten within an inch of his life to be one of the more plausible tales he'd spun as of late. Perhaps he had gone too far in painting Maru and Moro as the tragically misguided, yet indisputable heroes of said tale – it really _would_ be a stretch to imagine the two of them able to lift that hulking bottomless pit off the ground, much less chuck him out the front door…

_Bollocks_.

"Would you believe me if I told you that the margarita slip-and-slide party he and the Mokonas were having on the front porch got frighteningly out of hand…?"

"_No_," Syaoran stiffened. "Why do you feel you have to lie to me?"

Watanuki stared into his teacup. "We were fighting."

"Well, that's normal for you two. What I want to know is why you were fighting so viciously that you chucked him naked into the street with your garbage."

"Ooooh…was he naked…?"

"You know damn well he was."

"Oh."

Syaoran sighed and mentally kicked himself for ever bringing this subject up. He felt guilty for prying, yet felt he was entitled to some answers from the man who was his other self. This inner conflict was giving him quite a migraine, trying to sort out intricacies of this exchange: _Was it really "prying" if Watanuki was his other self? Would this whole affair somehow work against him in the grand, cosmological scheme of things; would he be eternally punished for Watanuki's violent temper? Wait, wasn't Watanuki being punished for _**his**_ misdeeds? But on the other hand, hadn't Watanuki said he was grateful for Syaoran's meddling in time-space because otherwise he wouldn't exist? Did that make Watanuki's issues entirely his fault? If they were all his fault, shouldn't he be able to figure out his other self's motivations without asking? Were the answers really as terrifying as he feared they might be?_ He felt his eyes begin to cross and quickly blinked the barrage of philosophical thoughts away – neither of them was going to benefit from overanalyzing the implications of their bond. "Was this…a lovers' spat?"

"A _what_?"

"You know…"

"Why would you think that?"

"Well…it's fairly obvious…"

"No it's not! That's never been confirmed! I'm hanging out here waiting for Yuuko! _Yuuko_! He's just a tag-a-long! Nothing else! Nothing! My errand boy! My…" he trailed off, afraid he might be coming off as overly eager to deny whatever Syaoran was implying.

Syaoran smiled calmly. "Yes. And it's perfectly normal for men your age to be having slumber parties. Several times a week. I totally understand."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Possibly," Syaoran sipped his tea thoughtfully, trying to phrase what he was about to say in the most tactful manner he could manage, "I just don't understand why you can't let go and be true to what you want."

Watanuki frowned. "I don't know what I want."

"Well, then maybe it's best to not keep dragging Doumeki into your confusion…?"

"But…"

Syaoran's eyes widened in expectation. "Finish your thought."

"Maybe I love them both."

Syaoran let loose a long-suffering sigh and thanked his lucky stars that his relationships had always been clear cut (well, comparatively anyway – he supposed one could argue that being separated from his love by time and space for all of eternity with only brief interludes together to relieve the inevitable build-up of sexual frustration added a certain…_complexity_ to his relationship that most did not have to endure…). "Maybe you do," he conceded, covering his eyes with his hand, "But A) that's not really fair to _them_, and B) Yuuko is _dead_."

"But she's coming back."

"…"

"She is."

"Mmmhmm. I think you should work on sorting out your feelings."

Watanuki grimace. "That might take some time."

"That's fine. But you should still do it."

Watanuki leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly fiddling with his obi and fervently wishing he was somewhere else. "Even if it takes another six years…?"

"_Yes_…" A flash of denim beneath his other's fingers caught Syaoran's gaze and he bit back a sudden flash of anger. "_Oh for f_…was this whole argument about the cut-offs again?"

"…possibly."

Syaoran growled, cursing himself for ever breeching this uncomfortable topic if this whole incident had been caused by a simple argument over Watanuki's curious choice of undergarments. "Why don't you just take them off?"

"I can't!" Watanuki was indignant. It shouldn't be this difficult to explain to his other self that he hadn't been able to take them off in…how long had it been now?

"Why?" Syaoran was also indignant. "Have you always been this way?"

"Well, no…" Watanuki trailed off as his eyes glazed over. "But, there was this incident with a video camera and…"

Syaoran's eyebrow twitched. "Mokona?"

"No, Yuuko…" He mumbled something about a "very aggressive marketing campaign" as he shifted in his seat.

"And once again, Yuuko is _dead_. D-E-A-D. You live alone now, with no hidden cameras. Who's going to see you? The only person who even comes here on a regular basis is Doumeki, and this seems to be putting even more of a wall between the two of you than usual."

"He never minded before."

Syaoran balked, trying and failing to push his curiosity about the mechanics of _that_ far away from his higher thought processing centers. He centered himself with a sigh and began again. "But he minds now, so why don't we focus on making you comfortable enough in your own house to take them off."

"I thought you just said you wanted me to stop playing with Doumeki."

"I didn't tell you _to_ play with him – I said you need to get over the cut-offs thing."

"But…"

"One psychosis at a time. Now," Syaoran paused, knowing he was going to regret the next words out of his mouth, "What's it going to take to get you out of those shorts?"

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

Kurogane slammed the drawer of the cash register shut as roughly as he could without disturbing the snoring giant resting next to it with its feet on the counter. Good _gods_ teenage girls were irritating in this world.

Rikuou popped his head up over the counter next to him. "Thanks for that."

Kurogane grunted. He wanted to complain, but couldn't fault the kid for hiding from the ridiculous, preening, prancing, strutting, giggling, tottering, estrogen-soaked band of _bi…aurgh_! _Why was he so cranky?_

A shriek rang through the store from the back office.

_Oh, yes. That was why._

Kurogane grunted and shuffled past the still sleeping Saiga. The mage had formed some inexplicable bond with the creepy drugstore owner that seemed to be based mostly on a shared love of acting frivolous and drinking entirely too much during the daylight hours. Neither of these bothered the ninja on their own, as he had long ago come to terms with the more flighty and ridiculous aspects of Fay's personality, but this bond also apparently excused the magician from the arrangement they had come to with their hosts wherein they would _work_ in exchange for room, board, and any help Kakei could be to Syaoran's quest. _Work_, as far as Kurogane was concerned, did not include giggling over afternoon wine while _he_ sweated unpacking crates of merchandise. Neither did it include arguing so loudly in the back office over a mahjong hand that customers began to ask if they should call the police. It most _certainly_ did not include rearranging all of the nail polish bottles so that "Hello Kuro-puu" was spelled out in green against a red background.

This was all going to end right now. The mage was going to start pulling his weight around here – he didn't care how many tears, moans, or "Kurger-burgers" he had to sit through – so help him, that lazy blond was not going to be sitting around painting his toenails for one more night…

Another piercing shriek broke through the air as he flung the door to the office open.

"What the _hell_ is going…"

He turned abruptly and slammed the door behind him.

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

"I don't think I can do this with you here," Watanuki mumbled nervously.

"Well, I don't trust you to do it if I'm _not_ here," Syaoran retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "Besides, you're _me_, remember? It's like I've never seen _me_ naked before."

"Yeah, but our faces are different, so what if…"

"Oh for the love of…"Syaoran sighed, gritting his teeth. "Look, I'll go first."

The was a soft rustling as a pair of trousers fell to the floor. Watanuki grimaced. "Do you always go commando?" 

"Commando?"

"Never mind," he inhaled deeply, steeling his nerves and slowly, slowly bringing his fingers to grasp the brass button below his belly button. He exhaled, forced the button through its eyelet, and let the cut-offs fall to his feet.

Syaoran stared.

"What the hell is _that_?" Syaoran demanded after a long moment had passed.

"What's what?"

"That…_thing_ you're wearing?"

Watanuki looked down. "Oh. That. I don't know what it's called. I found it in Yuuko's wardrobe and liked the way it shaped-"

"Just get rid of it!" Syaoran cut him off.

"Okay…" Watanuki removed the offensive garment. He paused, feeling the cool breeze envelop him for the first time in ages. It felt…_freeing_. "Hey, this feels great!"

Syaoran let loose a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He felt an immense pride for his other – he'd made some tremendous progress today. Now he could put his pants back on, have some dinner, and push the entire afternoon far, far away from his stream of consciousness.

"Hey, look! We have the same birthmark!"

Far, _far_ away.

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

Kurogane whimpered as the lukewarm water washed over him. He'd lost track of exactly how long he'd been sitting on the floor of the shower, but it had been long enough to deplete the hot water supply for the building. What the _hell_ had the idiot mage been _thinking_? _Had_ he been thinking?

Just how long had this type of thing been going on?

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

Fay hissed as the cool lotion hit his back and shuddered as two foreign, slender hands massaged it into his flushed, overheated skin. "Mmm…" he groaned.

"Better?" Kakei asked, flipping the lid back onto the bottle.

"Much," Fay assured him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, but kept his position lying prostrate across Kakei's desk. "Though I can't help but think Kuro-sama is going to have an issue with this after that little interruption…"

"He'll get over it," Kakei soothed, settling back onto a sofa.

Fay bit his lip. It wasn't like Kurogane to "get over" much. No, he was fairly sure he was going to be hearing about this for quite awhile, if the ninja decided to speak to him at all…

Still, he had to admit that the look on Kurogane's face as Kakei had ripped the final wax strip from his back had been priceless.

He sat up and brushed his fingers lightly across his shoulder blades. It _was_ smooth. He smiled. "You weren't kidding – this really _is_ better than shaving!"

Kakei smiled. "It's amazing the things you discover when you own a drugstore."

Fay pulled his shirt back on. "Now, if only it didn't itch so badly…"

"Oh, give it time; that goes away. Now, let's get this store closed so we can enjoy the rest of the evening."

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

Kurogane slumped from the shower to the sound of a ringing phone. His ears perked up; hope rose in his chest that Syaoran might be on the other end with offers of fantastical ways to get him out of the apartment this evening, away from screaming mages and away from the terrifying sheets of paper covered in blond curly-whirlies that had covered that office floor…

He shuddered and wrapped a towel around his waist. _What had that idiot been thinking?_

His hopes of salvation were dashed as he exited the bathroom and caught the end of Rikuou's conversation.

"Sure, I'll tell them you're staying. Tomorrow? All of us? Sure, I'll ask. Yep, see ya later."

"Syaoran?" Kurogane grunted as he searched for his pants amongst the clutter on the floor.

"Yeah, he says he's staying over at the shop-"

There was a decidedly dejected sounding sob from the far corner of the apartment. Kurogane looked up to see Doumeki sprawled across one of the beds.

"And that we're all invited over there tomorrow afternoon," Rikuou continued, narrowing his eyes at Doumeki, "…including you, Sergeant Sunshine."

Kurogane sighed and pulled his pants on. "Well, what's on the menu for tonight?"

Rikuou shrugged. "I was just going to go downstairs. Kakei's got a big screen plasma TV down there and it sounds like they're having a party…"

"Oooh, I'm going too, then," Kazahaya declared, popping out from behind his side of the curtain and startling Kurogane.

"Me too," Doumeki decided, pushing himself up off the mattress.

Kurogane sighed. There would be no escape for him tonight.

* 11 * 11 * 11 * 11 *

Fay settled against the sofa and poured himself a glass of wine, thankful once again for Kakei's impeccable taste in alcohol. And film, for that matter, though he had to admit he was surprised to find that this particular film existed in this dimension as well. He supposed he shouldn't have been – he'd found it in several others and had worn out its charm on his broody ninja companion through repeated viewings.

Speaking of his broody ninja companion…he hadn't actually seen him for awhile. Though he supposed it was just as well – musicals tended to make him violent, anyway.

He hoped he wasn't _too_ put off by the waxing…

* 12 * 12 * 12 * 12 *

The off-key howling audible from outside the store had made it abundantly clear that he should have stayed away. Gone back upstairs. Read the newspaper. Made some tea. Had a bath. Gone to sleep.

Mistake number one had been betraying his instincts and continuing his march directly into the heart of the cacophonic maelstrom raging through the back office. This had placed him in the center of a crudely constructed karaoke bar, complete with idiots on tables attempting what he supposed were dance moves timed poorly to the rhythm chanted out by the drag queen on the enormous television screen behind them.

Oh, pardon. _Transsexual_ on the enormous television screen behind them. Mistake number two had been betraying his complete ignorance on the proper terminology to use when addressing a dude in a dress. The resulting fifteen minute lecture had left him longing for the tone-deaf singing. He hadn't actually _meant_ to be rude by calling said dude a drag queen, but he made a mental note to really put some venom behind it the next time the opportunity presented itself.

Mistake number three had been simply speaking the truth. Or at least what he had believed to be the truth: no man was able to sit through repeated viewings of Hedwig and the Angry Inch without reflexively girding his loins.

Apparently this statement couldn't have been further from the truth, and he now found himself reflexively girding his loins against six arm-chair psychologists intent on overanalyzing his troubled relationship with his manhood.

"Seriously, Kuro-sama, where is this fear of emasculation coming from?" Fay eyes burned into him and sapped the last reserves of his patience.

"What the hell are you talking about; "fear of emasculation?'" he huffed, staring at the ceiling.

"You just said you can't watch this movie without fear that someone is going to cut your balls off!"

"It's a movie about a guy who had his…_equipment_ removed!"

"No! It's a tragic love story about a botched escape from Soviet Berlin and the heartbreak endured trying to find love in a society that won't accept you! And it also has a really rockin' soundtrack, but you can't see or appreciate any of that because you have an irrational fear of losing your proverbial manhood!" 

"_Proverbial_ manhood? _Whose_ manhood is proverbial? You're the one always prancing around in women's clothes, playing with make-up, painting your toenails, and wearing poofy shit in your hair! And waxing!" he shuddered at the images this last accusation conjured. 

"This is exactly my point! You're so hung up on your own little definition of 'manly' that you see these things as somehow wrong for a man to do! And all because women enjoy them on a larger scale than men do! I know you don't hate women, Kurogane, so why, _why, WHY_ do you get so upset when a man does them?"

Oh, _shit_. He hadn't realized he'd riled the mage up enough to spit out the dreaded full-name of doom with so much malice. "I…"

"Do you find it odd that Souma is a ninja or that women in this country by and large wear pants?"

"No…"

"Because those both women doing stereotypically male things! You have your definition of 'normal' centered around 'Dude-Bro' and are afraid that any deviation from that makes you abnormal and therefore less of a man! Textbook fear of emasculation!"

"What the hell is a 'Dude-Bro?'"

"Is that really all you have to say? Did you not hear anything else I just told you?"

"I _heard_ you just fine!" Kurogane could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, "I just don't _get_ it! Are you saying you want to be a woman?"

"AHHH!" It had been a long while since Kurogane had heard Fay scream like that. "I can't take this anymore! I've always known you thought I was abnormal, but I can't take that you won't even try to listen to me when I talk to you about it! I'm done!"

Fay slammed the door on his way out, leaving Kurogane to gape helplessly at the other men wallowing in an awkward silence.

* 13 * 13 * 13 * 13 *

Fay found himself standing in a large room, dark except for the soft glow of a candle on a bedside table which illuminated the slow curl of smoke from the tip of an incense stick. The smoke wound about the room, folding in upon itself, stinging his eyes and filling his nostrils with the scent of…bacon…?

He stepped hesitantly through the smoke, uncertain of where he was and how he had arrived here. Through the tendrils of smoke he could barely make out the outline of a bed; canopied, curtained, and staggeringly dark against the backlight provided by the candle. He stepped closer and called into the darkness. Receiving no reply, he grasped the curtains loosely.

He hesitated, sensing a Sanrio gag lurking nearby, concealed by the heavy cloak of darkness.

Fortunately, the magician's wish to cease the bludgeoning of that particular expired equine was granted as the curtains were drawn apart by a hand other than his own and he found himself staring into the mismatched eyes of a familiar Angsty Shopmaster of Doom.

"Wata…what?"

"That was going to be my question," the angsty shopmaster mumbled, groping for his glasses on the bedside table. "How did you even get in here?"

"I don't know," Fay admitted, "I thought I fell asleep on the roof of the drugstore…"

Watanuki froze. "Shit…"

Fay raised an eyebrow, unsure of which part of his previous statement had set Watanuki on edge.

"This must be a dream," Watanuki supplied, eyes darting anxiously around the room.

"Oh," Fay paused. "Is that…bad?"

"No…it's just-"

"Yo."

Fay fought back a grin at the dark-haired figure that suddenly emerged from beneath the blankets. Watanuki grimaced and rolled his eyes. "It's just that _this_ usually happens."

Doumeki grinned. This struck Fay as odd, and a new thought occurred to the wizard. "Is this my dream or yours?"

"Yours, of course," Watanuki answered, just a little too quickly. "How in the world would you get into one of _my_ dreams?"

Fay considered this. "So you're saying that this dream business is a one-way street?"

"Yes. One-way. I go. You stay in your own."

"Well, that doesn't seem very fair."

"No one said it was supposed to be," Watanuki straightened his back and crossed his arms.

Fay frowned. Something about this explanation still wasn't satisfying. "Why in the hell would I dream about you in bed with Doumeki?" he demanded.

"Because you're a pervert?"

Fay chuckled. "Well, be that as it may, I'm not really into voyeurism involving an eternal teenager."

"Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something."

"No, I'm pretty sure that it's not _my_ subconscious that's trying to tell someone something."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Fay suppressed a smile, "Tell me, how _is_ Narnia these days?"

"What?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's just that it's been so long since I got in past that first rack of shirts I'd forgotten what the back of the wardrobe looked like."

"Is this some sort of inter-dimensional humor?" Watanuki demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"If you like…" Fay stretched his arms above his head and allowed his eyes to wander around the room. "But, more importantly, why am I…why are you…why are _we_ here?"

Watanuki stared. "Well, you must have a wish."

Fay considered this. "I wish Kuro-sama would stop being such a heartless putz."

Watanuki rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "You wish that every time I see, and every time I tell you the same thing! You can't change him to fit some little mold of your perfect man! The putzness is so firmly engrained in his being that you'd be left with a soulless, limp doll if you got rid of it."

"That might not be so bad…"

Watanuki stared.

"I was just kidding. And I know. I know. He's just so…"

"Blinded by his obscene masculinity?"

"Yeah."

"You could just leave him."

"I don't want to."

"Well, then. "

"Right." Fay fidgeted for a moment. "I guess I don't really have a wish."

"Well, make one up then, so this doesn't end up being a complete waste of a scene."

"Fine. I wish Kuro-sama would come up here and talk to me."

"Seriously? That's it?"

"That's it."

"Why don't _you_ just go talk to _him_?"

"Look, you asked for a wish…"

"Fine, fine," Watanuki huffed. "I'll do what I can. In the future though, please remember that I am very busy and important."

"Well, I can certainly see that you're busy." Fay's eyes darted back to the spectral Doumeki nestled into the pillows. "Just to sate my own morbid curiosity; is that Shizuka or Haruka?"

Watanuki's eyes grew wide. "It's, umm…"

"Yo."

"Well, I don't' know what I was expecting…" Fay chuckled at the second dark-haired figure emerging from beneath the blankets. He turned to leave and waved over his shoulder as he felt himself waking, "Thanks! And tell Mr. Tumnus I said 'hi' next time you see him!"

* 14 * 14 * 14 * 14 *

Kurogane roared as he severed the head of his demonic opponent. This particular demon had been more difficult than most to vanquish, and stopped to grab the fallen head, relishing the thought of raising it above his own in victory.

He nearly soiled his armor when its mismatched eyes opened and it began to speak.

Well, scold was more accurate. He was certain he'd heard something about "stop being a putz" and "go apologize" come out of its mouth as he flung it across the field.

He tramped back over to the head, now sporting a familiar face. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

"This is kind of my gig now. It's the only way I can leave the house these days," the disembodied head answered.

"Hmph," Kurogane frowned. "What was that about apologizing?"

"Just wake up and go do it. I really don't like being just a severed head."

Kurogane sighed. "Alright…"

The battlefield faded slowly away.

* 15 * 15 * 15 * 15 *

Fay stepped lightly down the metal staircase, being especially mindful to not make too much noise at this late hour. He paused in surprise when he noticed the dark figure reclined against the wall of the third storey landing.

"Hey," it said simply.

"Hey yourself."

"Look, I-"

"It's okay," Fay said simply, pulling the other to sit next to himself on the stairs. "I shouldn't have snapped like that."

"Do you really think that I don't respect you or that I think you're less of a person because you're…you?"

"You? No, it just builds up after awhile. Most of the worlds we travel to seem to have exactly the same definition of 'normal' you do, after all."

Kurogane frowned and pulled the smaller man closer to him. "Hey, cheer-up. This is supposed to be a comedy and it's turning into a hurt/comfort piece."

Fay chuckled. "This is true, and we can't have that."

"No, that would be bad. And probably more angst than I have the energy to deal with."

Fay grinned wickedly, suddenly aware of the large hand sliding slowly down his back. "Kuro-sama, you didn't come out here just so we could have make-up sex, did you?"

"_No_." A pause. "But I wouldn't be opposed to it."

"Right, then. Rooftop?"

"We didn't get caught this morning, did we?"

* 16 * 16 * 16 * 16 *

"_I WANNA ROLL WITH HIM, A HOT PAIR WE WILL BE! I DON'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT WHALES SO GO AND HUG A TREE (I love it)!_"

"Dammit, Mokona," Kurogane grunted, attempting to snatch the microphone away from the white manjuu, "You're messing up the lyrics!"

"_RUSSIAN ROULETTE IS NOT THE SAME WITHOUT A GUN! AND BABY WHEN IT's LOVE, IF IT'S NOT ROUGH IT ISN'T FUN_!"

Fay leaned back into the ninja. "Just let them have their fun," he teased, waving at the group fighting with Watanuki's Rock Band console. He was appreciative of the quiet distraction the afternoon at the shop provided, even if Watanuki _had_ insisted on walking around naked for the entire first half of their visit (he'd been more than slightly relieved when Doumeki had hauled him away and reemerged half an hour later with a fully-dressed host for them, though he _did_ wonder about the lost half hour…). The pair seemed to be getting along better today, at any rate, and for that he was thankful. He wondered what Syaoran had said to calm the other boy, then decided it was probably best that he not know. He'd had enough drama last night to last for a few days.

Syaoran had thrown himself completely into the rhythm section of the game. Bludgeoning the ever-loving tar out of the percussion pad was proving far more therapeutic than he had imagined. This color represented Watanuki; that one early morning roof-top copulation. And that one over there was definitely, definitely this dimension.

It was time to leave.


	13. Chapter 11

**Hello! Here is an extra long chapter to make up for the lack of updates lately – I hope you enjoy it! Also, I believe this will be the last arc for this series – it's getting to be kind of a monster! I have a few ideas jotted down for a second series, however, but I think I need a short break from the insanity to write something more serious…I've been acting even weirder than normal lately, and I can only surmise that it's because of the amount of ridiculousness and filth I pour into this fic… :-D**

**Enjoy!**

_Chapitre 11: Vampire of Angst_

_Even if tomorrow the bruises will disappear; with you angsting by my side, there will always be injuries to my pride._

Syaoran winced as his knees crashed down onto concrete and a siren roared past his head. For a moment, he lamented his decision to demand that Mokona transport them away from Watanuki's shop so abruptly, but was hastily reminded of his earlier reasoning as small black rabbit screamed and ran past him onto a blacktopped roadway to evade overly amorous white counterpart.

Tires squealed and horns blared as the rabbit narrowly escaped a bloodied and decidedly two-dimensional fate.

Syaoran breathed a sigh of relief as the black rabbit reached the safety of the sidewalk. His attention was quickly diverted, however, to the less fortunate automobile that had slammed into the guardrail separating the two lanes of traffic to allow the little bugger safe passage across the road. Steam poured from the hood, which had folded neatly in an apparent effort to become an accordion. The driver flailed wildly before slumping over onto a large white balloon which flew out from the steering wheel and caught her across the head and shoulders.

A second chorus of squealing and honking began as a larger black blur raced across the stream of oncoming traffic. As the initial piercing chords faded, Syaoran was able to make out an all-too-familiar descant rising above the jarring refrain.

"…Bloody stupid manjuu! What the hell were you thinking dropping us down in the middle of the road? You'd think you had no practice at all landing in a new dimension! It's not like we've been doing this for _years_ or anything! GET BACK HERE! I swear I'll make you into gloves!"

Syaoran winced once again. He really wished Kurogane had the presence of mind to _not_ whip out his sword in broad daylight in the middle of a crowded street before they knew anything about the world they had landed in. Some of these places equipped their law enforcement with electrical weapons that were able to take down even the hulking ninja with surprisingly little resistance…

He grimaced as Mokona dodged the sharp edge of Kurogane's sword and landed with a thud on the roof of the battered car where it proceeded to bounce up and down frantically as the ninja thrashed wildly at the air. Syaoran squeezed his eye lids together and massaged the bridge of his nose as he silently began the countdown to Fay's inevitable scolding of the duo.

3…2…1…

…1

…

…?

He opened his eyes, disturbed by the lack of angry flailing and cursing. The scene had changed, ever so slightly; the car itself had been moved several feet back from where it had smashed against the railing and the driver had successfully disentangled herself from the billowing labyrinth of the airbag and ventured out onto the shoulder of the road. She now stood watching in horrified awe as Kurogane fiddled violently with something just outside of Syaoran's line of vision and continued to bark threats at Mokona. He sucked in a breath and started cautiously across the road, dodging traffic that was (thankfully) slowing to rubberneck the scene.

He wished almost immediately that he hadn't. He was barely across one lane when it became clear that what Kurogane was fiddling with was not a "thing," _per se_, but rather Fay's leg, which was currently bent at an unnatural angle from the knee. The sight of this was distressing enough; he certainly wasn't prepared for the sickening *_SLURPOP_*noise that echoed off the metal frames of the cars he darted between as Kurogane forcefully snapped the bones back into position.

He prayed silently to whatever gods or devils guided their journey that the sirens growing ever closer were some sort of medical assistance and not law enforcement, though he didn't particularly relish the thought of explaining to either just _how_ the wizard had ended up in the middle of the road to begin with…

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Fay was vaguely aware of a dull, alcoholic tang of an antiseptic clinging to the insides of his nostrils and cheeks like a bad hangover. He was doubtful, however, that the disturbingly prophylactic odor was entirely responsible for the fog clouding his mind or the inexplicable transformation of his tongue into something resembling unhusked cotton. He was also fairly certain that he shouldn't be able to feel his pulse in his ears, but, at the moment, was feeling _far_ too relaxed to start an argument with them regarding the finer points of their physiology.

He also seemed to be moving, which was worrisome as his brain was currently registering his bodily position as far more horizontal than vertical. He supposed stranger things had happened, but, for the life of him, he couldn't quite make out _how_ he was moving when he couldn't feel his feet.

It was very strange indeed.

There was an abrupt shift in the atmosphere; the essence of "antiseptic and clean" was replaced with something more akin to "acidic and likely found in a sewer." With some effort, he forced his eyes open as he felt himself shudder to a halt amidst the putrid air.

_Curtain. Curtain. Shouting. Curtain. Beeping machine._

"Fay?"

"Syaoran? Where the hell are we? What happened?"… is what he meant to say. His tongue, however, was presently locked into a vast anatomical conspiracy with his ears and feet and refused to cooperate, leaving his resulting attempt at speech sounding more like "ShooooDa_fuk_? Wamama?"

Before Syaoran could answer, a flurry of activity erupted around them. Four brutish men in matching green uniforms burst through the curtains surrounding the bed amidst shouts of "Oh _shit_! He's awake!" and proceeded to pin the wizard's limbs to the bed.

Fay was quite shocked to discover that he could, in fact, feel his feet. Or at least he was able to feel the sharp blast of pain that ripped agonizingly through the left one as it was forcibly restrained by Thuggish Brute Number Two. He mentally parsed several pleas for the _lovely_ gentleman to relax his death grip just a bit, but decided, in the end, that screaming was both more efficient and satisfying.

A fifth man pushed his way through the curtains wielding a large and threatening looking syringe. "Now, Mr. Fluorite," he said slowly, "I have enough Ketamine in this syringe to knock out a small rhinoceros, and I will _not_ hesitate to inject it directly into your eyeballs if necessary to prevent a repeat of this morning. Is this clear?"

It wasn't, but Fay nodded weakly in assent anyway. His eyes darted quickly to Syaoran, who grimaced.

"Very well," the man lowered the syringe and motioned to the others, who warily released their hold of the wizard's limbs. "Mr. Fluorite, the traffic accident you were involved in this morning tore the lateral collateral ligament of your left knee and created a hairline fracture in your tibia. We've replaced the ligament with a synthetic and set your leg to heal properly. Medically speaking, you're fit for discharge, though you won't be walking for several weeks. Legally, however, I am obliged to keep you under observation here for another hour to ensure that you are not a danger to yourself or anyone else. Do you understand what I am saying to you?"

Fay supposed he understood the meaning of the words spoken to him, even if the greater context of the situation was lost. He nodded.

"Right, then. A nurse will be by shortly with your discharge paperwork. Until then, you are not to move from this gurney." The five men disappeared back through the curtains.

Fay's gaze wandered back to Syaoran, who was eyeing him with the same apprehension the men in green had. "What happened?"

Syaoran winced. "Well…a lot. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I have a fuzzy recollection of finding the Mokonas doing something I was unaware Mokonas were equipped to do…"

"Ah, okay. So right before we left, then. Um, well, we – _I_ – decided it was time to leave. And then Mokona dropped us in the middle of traffic here."

"What kind of traffic?"

"…car?"

"Oh, thank gods." It was difficult to underestimate the wizard's gratitude to whatever deities may have been eavesdropping that he hadn't been dipped in horse dung in addition to being fitted with a cast. He failed to say this aloud, however, which only caused Syaoran to stare at him with more concern.

"Are you alright?" Syaoran asked slowly, "They gave you some pretty strong pain-killers…" _and_ an obscene number of sedatives, though Syaoran felt it best to keep that piece of information to himself for the time being.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine. Can't feel a thing, honestly," Fay attempted to sit up, but failed miserably and opted to roll gingerly onto his side instead. "What was that doctor talking about? This morning? And what is Ketamine?"

Syaoran grimaced and pulled the curtain behind him aside to reveal the aftermath of the wizard's hospital admission. After charming the attending paramedic into giving him "a little something to take the edge off," Fay had progressed through a multitude of rare, but not entirely unknown side-effects of the pain-killer. The early-stage fit of giggles had quickly evolved into a stream of loud honking noises as the distressed wizard fought to scare away the large flock of purple geese that had suddenly and inexplicably appeared in the ambulance. The entire episode had ultimately culminated in a full-on Ashura hallucination coupled with a disturbing amount of thumb sucking. This, in and of itself, had not disturbed the hospital staff (who were well used to the bizarre side-effects of some of their more potent drugs and were frankly happy he hadn't soiled himself as well), so much as it had inspired them to call their friends in other departments down to the emergency room to gawk at the latest admittee.

Which, of course, meant that a sizeable crowd had gathered by the time the nurses had attempted to coax Fay onto a gurney for transport to the X-Ray room.

Which, of course, meant that the number of injuries sustained when bright blue lights suddenly erupted from the wizard's fingertips and blasted through the opposing wall were increased three-fold.

(The only person who hadn't appeared alarmed by this turn of events was a rather pissy-looking man dressed in black and holding a bouquet of flowers and some sort of mutant-rabbit plushy. He was later admitted for psychological counseling after loudly and repeatedly proclaiming to anyone who would listen that "the idiot" was "fine" and was "only doing this to piss me off." )

Fay stared at the wreckage. "I did _that_?" he gaped.

Syaoran shuffled. "You weren't really…yourself…" He had been only too happy that fate, or inevitability, or hitzusen, or whatever the translator was calling it these days had intervened in the form of a familiar face during the mass hysteria following Fay's spectacular pyrotechnic demolition of the emergency department…

"Well, hello again, my fellow travelers."

Syaoran was snapped back to reality by the reappearance of the same familiar face through the curtained walls.

"Subaru!" he exclaimed, turning to grasp the other's arm affectionately. "We really can't thank you enough for earlier. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't stepped in…"

Subaru smiled and waved the thanks away. "It was nothing. It's not the first time someone has reacted badly to Oxyfukatol."

"Yes but the-"

"I'd actually rather not talk about that here. Might be a bad career move," Subaru tapped his nurse's badge proudly.

"Oh…" Syaoran eyed the papers in Subaru's hand. "Are those…?"

"Discharge papers!" Subaru waved the stack enthusiastically. "Where are you all staying here? He's not going to be up and walking for a few weeks, so you really should make sure it's accessible."

"Actually, we haven't found a place yet," Syaoran admitted, "This sort of happened as the result of a botched landing."

"Ah," Subaru nodded, "Why don't you stay with us, then? We've got plenty of room that we're not using and-"

"Buu-Buu!" A second dark-haired head appeared through the curtains. "We need more iodine over here! This wound is going to get infected!"

Subaru drew a patient breath and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "She's been discharged. It's only a couple of scratches – the most she's in danger of is some minor discomfort."

"But _Buu-Buu_!"

"And don't call me 'Buu-Buu' at work."

The second dark-haired man grumbled and eyed-up the blonde occupant of the bed. "It's _you_…"

Syaoran moved to affirm this, but was held back by Subaru. "Yes, brother. They're the ones Kotori hit on her way to work this morning. I've actually just finished inviting them to stay with us while they recover."

Kamui's eyes narrowed. "So _they're_ the reason…?"

"Don't start this again," Subaru snapped, "It was an accident."

"You said that last time, as well."

"That's because it was."

"And the time before that."

Subaru let loose a long-suffering sigh and attempted to herd his brother back through the curtain. "This really isn't the time…"

Syaoran and Fay exchanged worried glances as the argument between the twin vampires escalated just beyond the curtain, the words "interference," "E," and "rat-bastards" being repeated in increasingly high-pitched tones. There was a loud scuffle, several metallic clangs, and finally a loud declaration of "_FINE_!" This was followed shortly by a meek "_I love you, too_," and the reappearance of Subaru into the curtained-off room.

"Brother's just gone up to his office to collect his things. He'll be taking you home shortly."

"We really don't want to be an imposition…" Syaoran started.

"Not at all!" Subaru insisted, "He just needs a little convincing sometimes. It will be great to have some company!"

"As long as you're sure…"

"Of course! Now, why don't you start filling these out, and I'll head up to the psych ward to see what I can do about getting your friend released."

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Syaoran balked in amazement at the sheer _size_ of the house Kamui led them into. The entryway, nestled unassumingly into an even less assuming façade, opened into an extravagant open living space; the entire house had been designed around a sunken central room with an elaborate wood burning stove as its centerpiece. The second story balcony overhung this space, ensuring that the open atmosphere was not limited to the first floor and towering panes of glass framed by elegantly carved dark woods comprised the majority of the outer wall, which provided a spectacular view of a meticulously scaped and gardened rock face leading into the back property.

"Hyuu…" Fay breathed, eyes wide in surprise. "You two have done amazingly well for yourselves here…" He paused as a long-haired black cat leapt into his lap as he attempted to wheel himself further into the living area.

Kamui smirked. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. That's Hokuto – she's our darling girl," he added, stroking the cat behind the ears.

"Hello Hokuto! So _cute_!" Fay turned his attention back to Kamui, "What exactly are you doing for work?"

"I'm a professor of anatomy. Subaru, as you gathered, is a nurse."

"You can afford this place on a professor and nurse's salary?" Syaoran sputtered in disbelief.

A faint smile tugged at Kamui's lips. "Actually, I suppose you might say that this place was left to us."

"Left to you?" Syaoran was growing increasingly flustered, both by Kamui's evasive answers and by the arithmetic he was attempting to do in his head which refused to work itself out.

"Yes…posthumously."

Fay blanched, recognizing the expression playing across their host's face all too well. Syaoran, however, was too busy trying to multiply pi by six and divide by zero while stamping out the laughter of the imaginary numbers dancing mockingly through his head to notice, and continued to press the issue. "How long have you been here?" he demanded.

"A little over two years, I think."

Syaoran's face twisted incredulously. "In two years you managed to talk someone into leaving a house to you _and_ managed to work your way through the years of study needed to get the degrees for your jobs?"

Kamui snorted, finally understanding the look of confusion mixed with what he had assumed to be extreme constipation contorting the young man's face. "I can jump through dimensions, you think I can't mock us up a few diplomas?" He paused to laugh. "Man, traveling with you three must be a luxury cruise – what do you do, sleep on the streets?"

Syaoran decided to let that last little jab slip by unacknowledged. "But surely you need some sort of knowledge of your field…"

"Well, having a basic understanding of human anatomy _is_ pretty damned valuable to a vampire. And let's not forget that I've been alive long enough to have a bit better understanding than most. And Subaru…well, he's just naturally good at being over-attentive and putting up with bleeding idiots. I figured you would at least remember _that_ much."

"…and the house?" Syaoran sighed.

"It was left to us," Kamui paused to stroke his chin. "Ah! That reminds me, we don't have any food – well, not anything you'd find edible, anyway..."

"I can go into the town in a bit," Syaoran volunteered, "You don't need to worry on our account."

"Nonsense," Kamui said with a grin, "I promised Subaru that I would be hospitable – he gets very cranky if I go back on my word. Besides, I can call out for it."

"Are you sure? We're set so far back out of town, it must be expensive to have things delivered…"

"Oh, it is. But don't worry, I have a grad student."

"A what?" Syaoran had a vague idea of what a 'grad student' was, but his definition didn't conjure up images of grocery delivery.

"A soulless, brainless troll that lives in my laboratory, leeching off my superior knowledge and one day hoping to steal my job. Luckily, he writes well enough that I can slap my name on his papers and publish them without too much additional work."

Syaoran stared.

Kamui waved the boy's expression away as he picked up a telephone receiver. "It's just a figure of speech. I'm sure he's a very lovely troll."

"But is it okay?"

"What? Of course it's okay. This is what grad students are for," his attention was quickly diverted to the voice carrying through the receiver. "Yeah, hi. I'm going to need you to run an errand for me. No, no. Just to the market and then back to my house. I don't really care. No, I _really_ don't care. Tell her to fucking walk. Look, we had this discussion last week-"

"Come on, Syaoran," Fay interrupted, not really wanting to test their begrudging host's patience any further. "Let's get settled in a bit. I think Kuro-rin would really appreciate finding a pair of pants."

The dark figure in the entryway glared. While this glare was undoubtedly intended to convey the threat imminent death to the wheel-chair bound wizard if he dared speak another word, the effect was somewhat ruined by the billowing hospital gown and fuzzy slippers.

Syaoran stared. "Why didn't they give you your clothes back?"

"I was in a hurry," Kurogane stomped past Syaoran to grip the handles of Fay's wheelchair, "Pants. Now."

"Still in a hurry, I see," Fay chuckled as he was wheeled away, "We must have some packed away in Mokona…let's go look."

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Subaru returned home later that evening to find a disgruntled grocery delivery boy camped out on the front porch. "Fujimoto! What are you doing here so late?" he gasped, eying the boy with concern. Large, dark circles below bloodshot eyes and shaky hands determinedly gripping the groceries screamed of sleep deprivation and far too many hours spent staring down a computer screen. Subaru grabbed the bag of groceries and set a hand on Fujimoto's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine…Kamui called and wanted me to drop by some groceries."

"How long have you been here?"

"Just a few minutes. I heard him yell for me to wait while he got some money."

Subaru sighed and unlocked the door. "You should come in. It's too late to be standing around outside."

Fujimoto complied and shuffled into the house behind Subaru. Kamui emerged down the stair case a moment later, looking perplexed.

"I _told_ you I'd just be a minute."

"Kamui," Subaru said sternly, "It's eleven o'clock – that's far too late to be standing around outside waiting for you. I can't believe you would even ask him to."

Kamui glared. "I suppose. Here's money for the groceries." He pushed a wad of bills toward his student.

Subaru lifted his eyebrows expectantly.

"And…thanks…" Kamui murmured through closed lips.

Subaru continued to stare.

"And…I'm, I'm…s-sorry for making you wait outside." He stared at the floor.

Subaru sighed and set the groceries on the counter. "You should take the day off tomorrow, Fujimoto. You've obviously been working way too hard."

Kamui's eyes snapped up and glared toward his twin. "But the lab has to be prepared for class on Friday and I have to spend all day tomorrow preparing for my review and Kotori is out and, and, and, and-"

Subaru draped a soothing arm around his brother. "Kamui…it will be okay. You work him too hard as it is. Just let it go this once."

"But," Kamui started to complain, then bit his lip as he saw the seriousness of Subaru's expression. "Okay…"

"Actually, it's fine," Fujimoto piped up. "I have to go back to the University anyway to pick Kobato up from work. I can set up the lab while I'm there."

"Really?" Kamui's eyes brightened, "Oh, thank you so much! There are 13 compacted recta that _must_ be removed before Friday's dissection."

Fujimoto blanched, realizing what he had just agreed to. Subaru saw this and sighed exasperatedly. "I'll go with you. I'm used to night shifts."

"Why don't I go?" a voice offered from behind them. The trio turned to see a frazzled-looking Syaoran emerge from one of the first floor bedrooms. "I can't sleep, and I'd love to see the university a bit more."

Kamui shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of a complete novice putzing about his lab, but he didn't really want to head back to campus himself, either. "Okay," he agreed at last, "But don't let him do anything that might reflect…_poorly_ on me."

"I won't," Fujimoto waved as he and Syaoran headed back through the front door. The door closed behind them with surprising force. "Bastard," he muttered, kicking at the ground.

"I heard that!" Kamui's voice shouted through an open window. A scuffle was audible from inside and moments later Subaru's voice called into the darkness, "And please remember to come for Brother's 'Good Luck' dinner tomorrow night!"

Fujimoto rolled his eyes as he jammed his key into the car door. "Like I could possibly forget…"

Syaoran sank into the passenger seat. "'Good Luck' dinner?"

"Kamui's up for tenure review on Friday. Subaru is having a party for him tomorrow night to wish him luck."

"Oh. Don't you usually wait until _after_ something like that to have a party?"

Fujimoto shrugged as he maneuvered the car around the driveway in the darkness. "I don't ask." He turned to look at Syaoran quizzically. "You don't know anything about this?"

"Well, no," Syaoran shrugged, "We're old friends from out of town – we actually just ran into Subaru by accident and he offered to put us up while we're here, so…"

"Ah. You seemed a bit too sane to be friends with Kamui."

Syaoran chuckled. "He's helped us a lot in the past, but I guess I wouldn't classify us as the best of friends, no."

Fujimoto grinned and pulled out onto the long dirt road leading into town. "Well, I hope you know what you just got yourself into…"

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

Syaoran stared at the woman seated across the booth from him and wondered for the umpteenth time in the past hour just _how_ he had ended up here. Sunlight was beginning to creep up above the horizon and glittered across the café's mirrored walls. "Um, Dr. Yokoshima, I really think I should be getting back…"

"I told you – please call me Kanoe," she grinned and shifted her shoulders to provide Syaoran with a better view of her cleavage. "And I thought you deserved a little treat after that _hard_ night in the lab."

"Yes, thank you," Syaoran murmured, stirring his eggs around his plate. He was enjoying himself despite his guilt processing centers' insistence that the thrill of being treated to a meal by a gorgeous and interesting woman wasn't worth the inevitable shouting and hair-pulling when Sakura found out. "I just don't want my friends to worry."

"Oh, I'm sure Kamui will keep them on their toes."

Syaoran smiled and thanked her again. He had been woefully unprepared for the work he and Fujimoto had set out to accomplish. He made a mental note to investigate future lab opportunities a bit more thoroughly, lest he find himself once again surrounded by thirty three half-dissected cadavers in the middle of the night. Also, he made a point to file the phrase "compacted recta" into the portion of his brain usually reserved for expressions such as "Flash Flood," "Poisonous if swallowed," and "Hey look, this vampire is sparkling!" He shuddered just thinking of poor Fujimoto up to his elbows in foreign viscera with carefully placed surgical clamps and a tentative scalpel blade positioned just above the…

His breakfast seemed even less appetizing now that he'd been introduced to the human digestive system in such an…_intimate_ manner.

"So…you're Kamui's boss?" he asked, trying to avert his eyes from the heaving globes of silicone sin bouncing before his eyes and failing quite badly.

"Yes," Kanoe smiled. "I'm the head of the anatomy and physiology department – I suppose you could say I'm his boss. My area of expertise is actually in cloning technology, though. Our research doesn't overlap in more than its basic subject."

Syaoran felt his face twitch at the mention of "cloning," and desperately fought to force some blood back into his cheeks, which he was certain had gone pale. "Cloning? You mean…human cloning?"

"No, not yet," Kanoe leaned back in her seat and lit a cigarette. "There are all sorts of ethical issues involved in human cloning." She paused to take a long drag. "Not to mention the implications of bringing a being into the world without a soul…"

"Yes," he finally managed, "I'm sure that must bring up all kinds of issues."

"It's fascinating, don't you think? The ability to create life from mere cells? All the more so if they don't have souls – replacement organs; armies of cloned, soulless soldiers; human subjects for medicinal trials… Of course, these are just some of the ethical concerns."

"Yeah, I can see that… How much do you know about 'souls' and their transference?"

Kanoe smiled kindly. "More than you might think," she assured him, "Though, strictly speaking, that's not my area of expertise. My sister, however…" she trailed off. "I thought I sensed something special about you."

"Special?" Syaoran was stunned. He wasn't sure whether to laugh joyously or cry tears of relief. Finally, someone who might be able to help…

A slender hand came to rest upon his own. "Yes. But this is not the time or place to discuss it. Please, come visit me at the university sometime this week. We can talk more then. And, I suspect you'll be looking for a way to escape Kamui and his temper." She winked.

Syaoran smiled. He would _definitely_ be by later in the week.

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

Kurogane grimaced as he examined the food spread across the counter. "Where's the meat?"

Kamui smiled menacingly at the ninja. "They think we're vegans. There's no point in contradicting that now."

"What the hell is a 'vegan?'" Kurogane demanded.

"Someone who doesn't eat any sort of animal product," Subaru supplied helpfully, carrying a large box toward the refrigerator. "You wouldn't believe the amount of social eating occasions that gets you out of." He opened the refrigerator and began unloading the box, stopping to wag one of the contents toward his twin. "We had a good haul today, Brother. We even managed to get a few pints of O positive – your favorite!"

Kamui's eyes sparkled happily as he skipped toward his brother. "Oh, _yay_! Gimme gimme gimme!"

"Just one for now," Subaru insisted, handing Kamui a plastic bag filled with a dark red substance, "And don't go into a frenzy."

"I won't!" Kamui promised as he stabbed a curly straw through the bag and began slurping the contents. "Delicious! Thank you Buu-buu! You're the bestest brother ever!"

"Don't call me Buu-buu," Subaru insisted, but smiled happily nonetheless.

Kurogane stared. "What is that? It sure as hell isn't Capri Sun."

Kamui removed his lips from the straw long enough to hiss at the ninja. "It's blood, you fool."

"I _know_ it's blood," Kurogane roared. "I'm not an idiot. How'd you get a bag of blood?"

Subaru chuckled. "One of the perks of having access to the hospital's emergency supplies." He placed the last of the bags into the refrigerator and closed the door. "Anyway, we should probably get started making dinner. It's good you guys showed up – we almost had to have it catered!"

Kurogane was about to grumble a response when the front door opened and an extremely weary Syaoran tumbled into the house. "Where have you been?" he demanded instead.

"I met, well, the head of Kamui's department in the lab and she took me out for breakfast…" he trailed off, not sure how much of his conversation he wanted to share just yet, then reached into his pocket, "She said this is yours." He produced a small Taser.

"What's that?" Kurogane growled, staring at the device.

"It's my Taser," Subaru said, "But, how did she know?"

"She said it was confiscated at the hospital yesterday, but she recognized it and figured you would want it back."

"Yeah, I convinced the hospital staff that the sparks flying from Fay's fingers actually came from this and they took it," he paused, stroking his chin, "Huh. Imagine that. Dr. Evil giving something back that she's taken…"

"Dr. Evil? She seemed really nice to me…" Syaoran said, frowning.

An expression of terror fitted itself across Kamui's face as his eyes searched Syaoran's face. "You didn't…"

"Didn't what?" Syaoran demanded.

"Didn't…do anything that would give her access to any of your bodily fluids, did you?"

"What? NO! She took me for breakfast and then brought me back! She was very gracious!"

Kamui breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Stay away from that woman. She's insane." He paused. "Still, this is not good if she knows that was yours, Buu-Buu."

Subaru nodded his silent assent, but refused to discuss the matter further. Kurogane looked from Syaoran to the vegetable filled counter and sighed. It looked like he wasn't going to be getting any help in preparing for this party after all. "You should go get some sleep," he said, nodding toward Syaoran, "Go keep the wizard company – he's getting far too friendly with that cat."

Syaoran nodded and left in search of a bed.

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

"Thanks for coming at such short notice!" Subaru thanked the caterers as they filed out the front door hours later. He stared dolefully at his empty wallet, sighed, and headed back toward the party. At least the smoke had cleared from the house…

He wandered over to where Kamui was talking animatedly with his favorite student and her date for the evening. From the look on his twin's face, Subaru could tell Kamui was enjoying himself – possibly a bit too much. The fear in the eyes of Kotori's date confirmed this, and Subaru moved to step in quickly to announce dinner before the inevitable meltdown began.

He was only moments too late, though judging by the violent explosion of anger and spittle from Kotori's unfortunate date, he probably hadn't had good odds of quelling whatever tempest Kamui had been stirring to begin with. He massaged his temples as the young man stomped to the front door and slammed it behind him. Kotori watched in horror from Kamui's side, dumbstruck and gaping. Subaru inhaled sharply – was this _it_? Was this the foot over the line that would finally push his brother's beloved student away from him…?

Kotori collapsed into Kamui's soothing embrace. No…_of course_ it wouldn't be. Subaru sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. It was too damned bright in this room, he decided, and stormed over to find the controls to adjust the window tint.

"Mood lighting?" a voice asked from his left. He spun to find the wizard wheeling himself out of the bedroom he had claimed.

"Huh? Oh, um, yes. Dinner is ready, so I thought…"

"I'm glad," Fay cut him off, "The sun is always too bright through those windows in the evening and it just _kills_ my eyes."

"Mine too," Subaru turned to glare at his twin, "And I'm sure _he'll_ appreciate the 'mood lighting.'"

Fay was unable to ask the vampire what he meant by that before the other stalked away and pointedly announced that dinner was served. He haphazardly attempted to maneuver himself to the table, but was thankfully caught by Kurogane, who wheeled him along a much straighter course than he was managing on his own. After several moments of futzing about trying to fit the wizard's massive, casted leg beneath the table edge, they opted to park him a way back from the table next to Kurogane's seat.

"Kuro-puu's just going to have to spoon-feed me," Fay giggled, smiling innocently at the girl seated on the other side of him.

She returned the smile and clasped her hands together. "That's so sweet! Fujimoto! Will you spoon feed me too?"

Fujimoto blushed as he took the seat next to her. "Um, Kobato…not here…"

"Aw! But it's so darling – look how cute they are!" she squealed as Kurogane handed Fay a glass of wine. Kurogane's eyes narrowed at the mention of "cute" and huffed as he turned away.

"Yes, it's…" Fujimoto stammered.

"Aw, Kuro-rin's being shy!" Fay exclaimed, clutching the ninja's arm and nearly spilling his drink.

"See?" Kobato continued to chirp, "I want to be cute like that, too!"

"I'm not cute!" Kurogane insisted.

"Kuro-myuu is very sensitive…" Fay whispered loudly, covering his mouth to hide its movements from Kurogane, "We have to talk about his cuteness very discreetly."

"How about you just stop talking altogether, since everyone can hear you anyway?" Kurogane growled.

"Ahem." Subaru stood at the end of the table, a glass raised in his hand. "We'd like to thank everyone for joining us tonight, and offer a toast to Kamui. As you all know, his tenure review is tomorrow and I think everyone would like to join me in wishing him the best of luck."

"Cheers!" Glasses clinked and beverages were consumed.

"And I, of course," Kamui began loudly, once the chatter had died down a bit, "Would like to thank my fantastic graduate students for being so devoted to our research. I couldn't have made it to this point without your help, Kotori and Fujitaka."

"Moto."

"What?"

"Fujimoto."

"Oh, right. Anyway, I'd also like to apologize to Kotori for scaring away her date tonight. It was in poor taste."

Kotori waved this away. "It's fine – I only just met him and-"

"You should stay away from computer science students. They're a frightening bunch."

"Like I said-"

"The only woman that boy will ever convince to love him is one he builds for himself. And he'll probably do something stupid like put her 'on' switch between her legs so he can't even…Ahahahaha…" Kamui collapsed into a loud gale of laughter while the rest of the party stared in silence. "Ahaha…and he'll probably name her something idiotic like 'Chi…' Ahahaha…and…and…"

Fay's eyebrow ticked. Subaru sank into his chair and released a low growl before gripping Kamui's shoulder sternly. "You're making the rest of us uncomfortable," he hissed.

"Oh. Sorry."

Subaru glowered and began passing dishes around the table. Kamui shrugged and turned his attention back to Kotori, who promptly began ignoring Syaoran, who in turn refocused his conversation on Kurogane, who looked like he would really rather be somewhere else.

Fay turned back to Kobato and Fujimoto. "So, are you two married…?"

"Oh, no! Not yet," Kobato said excitedly, "We're saving up money right now. Hopefully soon, though…"

Fujimoto coughed and sighed. "It's hard when you live on starvation wages…"

"But, Fujimoto! My job pays enough for us! We'll be fine…"

"What do you do?" Fay asked, pouring himself a large glass of wine in the hopes it might help the headache creeping up behind his eyes.

"I run the campus daycare center," she said proudly, then lowered her voice, "We should talk about something else, though. Kiyokazu tends to get depressed if I talk too much about it…"

"I do not!" Fujimoto insisted, "It's just…"

Fay frowned. "Just…?" 

"I'm 25 years old and don't have a real job, can't support us, and won't be able to for awhile. She's four years younger and already has a career that she loves…it's just…aggravating."

"But you do have a job!" Kobato said, grabbing Fujimoto's hand, "A very important one! You teach all of those medical students anatomy!"

Fujimoto sighed. "Only because that's the only way I can live with myself. Otherwise anatomical science and paleontology is about the most masturbatory discipline anyone could indulge in…"

"Um, what?" Fay wasn't certain he had heard correctly.

"What he means is – hey are you alright? Your eyebrow is twitching."

Fay put a hand to his brow. Damned if she wasn't right… He was going to have to go lay down soon; he could feel the pain-killers kicking in and making him drowsy. He didn't have too long to dwell on it, however, as Kamui yelled for their attention for across the table.

"Fujitaka! Did you hear me? I said the paper was accepted."

Fujimoto's eyes lit up. "Really?" he gasped, "The one _I_ wrote? That's great!"

"Yes," Kamui said, smiling faintly, "I thought you'd be pleased. Your first publication. Granted, you're the third author, but still…"

Fujimoto's face fell. "Wait, third author? But I did all the work!"

"Well, yes, but obviously I would be the first author and Kotori drew such a lovely figure for it, I thought she deserved the second author slot."

Fujimoto stared at his plate and fondled his knife. Subaru stared at his twin, rage festering in his eyes. Neither man acted.

Fay regarded Fujimoto with concern. "Have you ever just considered leaving?" he whispered, not wanting to offend their host. "You'd be amazed at the dark, entrancing beauty of a life lived in solitude, away from the infuriating outside world. It gives you time to reflect on your injuries, your fears, your deepest, darkest desires…"

He was cut off abruptly as Kurogane grabbed his arm. "Oi. What kind of nonsense are you spewing, idiot?"

"Nothing, nothing," Fay assured him, shading his eyes and plastering on a smile. "Say, remember that time Syaoran shattered Seishiro's nose? That was fun. We should tell Kamui and Subaru about that."

Kamui's face ticked. "Seishiro? Did you say Seishiro?"

"Yes! Syaoran-"

"You've had _contact_ with that asshole?" Kamui slammed his glass onto the table, shattering it.

"Yes," Fay continued, eyes narrowing, "As I was saying, Syaoran here-"

"AND YOU CAME INTO MY HOUSE?" Kamui raged, lifting the end of the table, "YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF MY HOSPITALITY AND ALL ALONG-" he paused as he felt Subaru grip his wrists and gently remove his hands from the table. "But, Buu-Buu…"

"That's enough. Everyone, thank you for coming, but I think it's best if we call an end to tonight."

The disturbed dinner party silently agreed and began edging away from the table.

"You three should stay," Subaru added, looking from Syaoran to Kurogane, "Despite what he says, I'd like to hear about Seishiro…"

"Buu-Buu!" Kamui shook with rage.

"Look, Brother, you've already ruined the evening. Why don't you go yell at the cat – that always seems to calm you down."

"But I can't…Hokuto is so sweet and _innocent_…I can't yell…"

"Then go to bed," Subaru sighed, exasperated. "You have a huge day tomorrow and…" he stopped as he realized Kamui was snoring gently in his grip and shook his head. "He never could handle his drink…I knew I should have held him back until everyone left…" He slung his brother over his shoulder and headed for the staircase. "I'll be back down in a moment – I want to hear more about Seishiro."

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

Fay stared balefully at the blank television screen. Kurogane snored loudly on the sofa across from him and Syaoran fluttered about the room alongside Subaru, tidying this and that and chattering nervously about Kamui's review, which had begun nearly three hours earlier. Fay's earlier attempts to help had been quashed almost immediately as his inability to maneuver the tightly packed living space brought about the untimely demise of an expensive table lamp.

Now he was left alone with his thoughts. Useless, empty, unfeeling except for the incessant thrumming of the pain-killers in his head.

And, damned if there wasn't anything good on the television, either.

A loud BANG from the entryway interrupted the flow of nothingness through the wizard's consciousness and Kamui stumbled into the living room. Subaru immediately dropped the vase he was polishing to bounce over to his twin and exclaim "Congratulations, Assistant Professor!"

Kamui stared.

"Brother…?"

"Why is it so fucking bright in here?" Kamui demanded.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Kamui said coolly, "Everything is exactly the same as it was this morning. Including my job title."

"Oh Kamui…" Subaru hugged his brother tightly to his chest.

"Don't," Kamui pushed away slowly, "I'm fine. I just want a drink."

"There's still some O positive in the fridge…" Subaru said soothingly, "Why don't you go get some and lie down for a bit?"

"Okay."

Subaru motioned for Syaoran to move Fay out of the room and quickly moved to shake the sleeping ninja, who woke with a loud snort. "What the…?" Kurogane demanded, groggily.

"You have to get up. You have to get out of the-"

He was cut off by a loud BANG from the kitchen and a mournful wail. "_Shit_..." Subaru cursed, "Hurry up…"

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY FUCKING CURLY STRAW?"

Another BANG, this one much louder than the previous. Kurogane rubbed his eyes and squinted toward the kitchen, trying to make out exactly _what_ the big deal was.

He wished he hadn't.

No one needed to see _that_ amount of blood dripping down a naked vampire standing atop the remains of a kitchen counter. Kurogane noted with more than a hint of despair that this was not the first time he'd witnessed this little display, even if the last time it had been _his_ blood dripping from the vampire in question and it had been less of a kitchen counter and more of a check-out counter at a convenience store that said vampire had ruined…

This could mean only bad things.

Luckily, Subaru stepped in quickly, using a paring knife to bat away his brother's claws as he moved in to wrestle the other to the floor. With Kamui safely subdued, he once again tossed his twin over his shoulder and climbed the staircase. "I'll be back in an hour or so…" he called to the horrified trio.

Syaoran stared at Kurogane. "Maybe we should leave…?"

Kurogane looked toward Fay. "I don't know…how are we going to get him out of here? I don't think we should leave this dimension until he's healed…who knows where we might end up…"

Fay whimpered and turned away.

Syaoran sighed. "Well, then, I suppose I can look into fixing the kitchen…"

"Right," Kurogane agreed quickly, 'And I'll make us something to eat." The duo rushed into the kitchen, leaving Fay to stare blankly out the window and mutter to himself about the "wretched brightness of the sun."

Syaoran quickly set about removing the splintered remains of the counter while Kurogane brought a pot to boil. The two neatly avoided tripping over one another by making as much noise as possible during their tasks, and soon Syaoran had heaved away the sharper bits of wood and Kurogane was grating cheese over the top of freshly cooked pasta. Neither of them heard the surreptitious creaking of the wooden ramp as Fay wheeled himself out of the sunken living room and toward the kitchen.

"Kurogane."

Kurogane was more startled by the sudden noise than the use of his full name and grated part of his finger. "What?" he asked, sucking away the blood pooling at the wound.

"Why?"

"Why _what_?"

"Why have you decided to usurp my role as the mother of our family?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know _damn well_ what I am talking about!" A gigantic, casted leg crashed down onto the counter, shattering the marble surface and crushing the wooden cabinet beneath.

"What the…WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Kurogane screamed as blue lighting flashed around his head and blew apart a rack holding cast iron pots and pans, which clattered to the ground. He managed to duck all but one, which caught him across the shoulders and sent him pummeling to the floor. He pulled himself back to his knees and stared at the wheelchair bound magician. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I…I…"Fay whimpered, tears glistening in his eyes, "Kurogane…" he croaked helplessly, collapsing into a fit of sobs.

Kurogane hauled himself to his feet and staggered over to the wizard. He smacked him hard across the back of the head. "Oi! What the hell?"

Fay looked up, eyes suddenly wide and gripped Kurogane's injured hand. Wordlessly, he brought the oozing finger to his lips and began to suckle gently at the tip.

Kurogane flushed and stared helplessly at Syaoran, horribly embarrassed that the kid had to witness this bizarre show of…affection? Lust…? Anemia…? He wasn't sure, but wasn't given the opportunity to ponder it further as Subaru reappeared down the staircase.

"What happened?" he cried, surveying the wreckage.

Kurogane gaped. "He, um…"

"Oh, Jesustapdancingchrist…" Subaru muttered, stalking across the room to where Fay was in the process of nursing delicately at Kurogane's finger. He laid a hand across the wizard's forehead and felt for a pulse in his outstretched neck. "Does this happen often?"

"_This_?" Kurogane barked. No, this was entirely new and horrifying. He wasn't sure exactly what this was…

"Does he have _angst_ fits?" Subaru demanded, more forcefully than before.

"What? Yes, well…but, but…this is too soon! It isn't _time_!"

Subaru cursed loudly and violently pinched Fay's neck. The wizard slumped to the side, snoring softly. "You," Subaru snapped his fingers at Syaoran, "Put him in the bed room. Lock the door from the outside." Syaoran was too startled to do anything but comply.

Kurogane stared at Subaru. "What is going on?"

Subaru grit his teeth. "How often does this happen?"

"Every nine months or so – like I said, it's far too soon. It's got to be something else."

"No!" Subaru shouted, "You don't get it! There's been too much angst floating around in this house! He hasn't been able to leave here, so he's been affected! My poor, poor kitchen…"

Kurogane stared, understanding slowly creeping across his features. "You're saying…_you threw off his cycle_?"

Subaru sighed. "_I_ didn't do…okay, fine, I probably didn't help. Too many angst pheromones in a closed off space…"

"This, this doesn't mean that…you're all going to cycle…together, does it?" Kurogane asked nervously. Terrifying flashbacks of growing up amongst an obscenely large group of women at Shirasagi castle were dancing through his head.

"No," Subaru said slowly, "We don't 'cycle,' _per se_, but…"

"But?"

"But I think we're in for a bad one."

"Shit."

Subaru exhaled. "Well," he said, a slow smile creeping across his face, "I think it's best that we keep them both here for the time being. Lord knows what will happen with both of them going at once…"

"You're suddenly far too calm for my liking."

Subaru smiled again, this time more brightly. "Well, at least it's not me, for once."

Kurogane eyed the vampire suspiciously.

Subaru ignored this and went back to inspecting the kitchen. "_Damn_, you can totally tell he got Kamui's blood…"

"How's that?"

"The rage angst. If he'd gotten my blood, he'd probably just get ridiculously mopey and then go catatonic for awhile."

For the millionth time in his short life, Kurogane silently cursed the Dimensional Bitch. This was going to be a long, _long_ few weeks.

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 12

_Chapitre 12: Proof That the World Is, In Fact, A Celebrity Skinned Vampire Sent to Drain Teen-Spirit-Scented Basket Cases Who are Stuck Like Flies in the Vaseline._

_-OR-_

_The Crackiest Bunch of Crack That Ever Cracked Itself Open Across My Keyboard_

**I have the strangest feeling I am going to be cosmically punished for this chapter…**

Subaru woke with a backache. He also woke with a headache, but that much he had anticipated. The backache was unexpected, however, and he snarled in disgust at small plastic _something_ poking into his shoulder. Where in the _hell_ had he fallen asleep, exactly?

_Ah, yes._ He stared at the slumping mattress above him. He was in Kamui's bunk, having abandoned his own the night before after a long argument concerning exactly _how_ a being with no cellular metabolism to speak of could be giving off as much body heat as his twin was had devolved into a (_very_ brotherly) wrestling match, complete with snarling, hissing, and a few well-placed kicks to the groin.

Not that he particularly enjoyed sleeping in his own bed if it meant Kamui would be wrapped around him like an angsty, drooling electric blanket in the middle of summer _anyway_.

He shuffled himself agonizingly around on the mattress, trying to locate whatever plastic abomination was currently gnawing its way into his arm pit. He groaned as his fingers locked around a plastic SephirothTM figurine, which he silently chucked at the wall. _So it was back to this again, was it?_

He groaned and kicked his feet over the edge of the bed. If Kamui had managed to find the abominable plastic god of death hidden beneath the floorboards, it probably meant that the rest of the house had been torn apart to find the remainder of the collection (which was actually hidden out in the tool shed… not that Subaru was going to _volunteer_ this little bit of information…). He stormed out onto the landing, contemplating how many personal days he was going to have to take from work to fix _this_ mess…

To his great surprise, the house was remarkably clean _and_ nailed together. He breathed a sigh of relief as he tiptoed down the staircase, stopping only to pick up a stray piece of lingerie that had been carelessly flung over the banister – definitely not _his_, he didn't own anything _this_ skimpy – and noted with slightly maniacal glee that everything else seemed to be in its proper place. He whistled to himself as he slingshotted the offensive bit of clothing to rest on the kitchen counter. With a little bit of luck, he might actually be spared a few moments of peace and quiet before the rest of the house woke up…

He continued his quiet trek into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of AB negative from the refrigerator. It was rare that the hospital had enough in stock for him to be able "borrow" some for personal libation, and he wanted to savor it – drinking from a fine crystal glass was only appropriate in this instance. None of this curly-straw nonsense…

Holy _shit_. Subaru was vaguely aware of his jaw dropping as his eyes settled on the cluttered sink. He hadn't been aware that they owned that many curly straws, nor had he even _considered_ the possibility one vampire could chew through _that_ many in the course during a single late-night drinking binge.

Idiot had probably been mixing blood types again, too.

Subaru quickly decided that it really _wasn't_ his fault if the antibodies were all interacting in comically fatal ways in his brother's stomach and poured his AB negative into a wine glass. Someone was going to have to maintain some sense of decorum around here and, since Kamui was likely to be doubled over the toilet for most of the morning, it was going to have to be him. Not that it wasn't, normally. It was lucky for the both of them that he was sensible and reliable enough to convince the humans they lived amongst that they were ordinary, well-adjusted individuals, free of any strange eating habits or ungual abnormalities. He shuddered to think what would happen if Kamui lived on his own…one wrong move and someone was likely to find themself reeling from a punch to the groin. Or a titty-twister, though Kamui (mercifully) seemed to be growing out of that phase lately. Yes, it was a damned good job he was capable and sane (okay, scratch that last, but he was better off than Kamui, anyway) and pretty and jesustapdancing_christ_ where was that high-pitched keening _coming from_?

He kicked the cabinet in front of him open and stared at his brother. "What are you doing to the cat?" he demanded after a moment.

Kamui squinted back at his twin. "I'm trying to explain that it's imperative that I act like a complete jackass to distance myself from her and spare her from the inevitable heartbreak that comes of associating with me, but…"

"But?"

"But…she just doesn't seem to want to _communicate_."

"So you've been talking non-stop at her in order to distance yourself."

"Yes."

"Kamui?"

"Yes?"

"Get the fuck out of the cupboard."

Kamui grumbled to himself, but obliged. Hokuto followed quickly after, jumping into the safety of Subaru's arms and bristling in fear as Kamui struggled to his feet. Subaru sighed and ran his fingers through the long black feline fur. He frowned. "Why is she dressed as a gun…?"

Kamui growled. "Because _someone_ took all of her CrowTM costumes away."

Subaru shrugged and began peeling the black cardboard and electric tape off of the poor cat. "You know she gets sick when she licks off all of the makeup." He turned back to Kamui, "You know, the garden could use some tending."

Kamui considered this and sighed resignedly. "I suppose…" He knew when his brother was trying to get rid of him. His eyes trailed toward the discarded clothing resting at the edge of the counter. "Nice banana hammock, Buu-Buu. Isn't it a bit big for you, though?"

"Out! _NOW_!" Subaru grimaced as he peeled the final bits of Hokuto's costume away. Who the hell was "Chekhov," anyway? And, seriously, who puts a nametag on a cat? He scowled as he tossed the last of it into the trash bin and watched in mild disgust as Kamui skewered a chipmunk on his way to the rose bushes. It seemed he was going to have to take a personal day after all…

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Kurogane slunk.

In the past six hours, he had been summarily dumped on 18 separate occasions, propositioned for sex on at least 20, and received no fewer than 185 bodily threats. Of these threats, 95 had been aimed directly at his manhood, another 60 had implied emasculation in a more _subtle_ manner, 25 had revolved around taking rusty a scissors to his hair, and 5 had involved the forceful violation of his umbilicus…

Which was unaccountably disturbing, as he _clearly_ had an outie.

In the end, he'd had to give up on sharing the bed with the wizard and opted to sleep in the closet. This had worked well until his arm had fallen asleep and he attempted to shift, knocking over several storage shelves in the process.

Really, no one could be expected to sleep with that many Candy Land pieces creeping up their… You know what? _Never mind._

Now he was relying on stealth.

He crept past the door to Syaoran's room, ducked, rolled, and folded himself under the sofa in mere seconds.

He sniffed the air. This seemed like a safe enough place for some sleep.

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

Syaoran wondered if he should say something to Kurogane. The ninja's timing seemed…_off_ and, more worryingly, he hadn't actually seemed to notice Syaoran lying on the sofa he had just hurled himself under.

He supposed it was lack of sleep; he himself was currently suffering from the same affliction after being treated to the sounds of slurs, threats, and pleas for mercy through the wall until the wee hours of the morning for the past week. He wondered how concerned he should be. He didn't actually think Fay would make good on any of this barely coherent threats – he had never actually _hurt_ Kurogane before (ok, _fine_, he had never hurt him _intentionally_…or at least never more than once on the same day…) – but that didn't mean Kurogane wasn't well on his way to becoming a one-man train wreck piled off its tracks by a steam load of verbal abuse and too little rest. He made a mental note to keep him away from any sharp objects. And probably blunt ones, for that matter. At least until he'd gotten some sleep.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the snoring to commence.

Subaru cleared his throat, somewhat disturbed by that little…_display_. Syaoran tried to smile reassuringly; it was largely a wasted effort, however, as the ninja chose that particular moment to release a loud whimper in his sleep. He giggled nervously instead.

"I don't suppose I could bribe you to head into town and pick up our paychecks and a new bag of curly straws, could I? I'd go myself, but…" he motioned to the window where Kamui was clearly visible; apparently in the middle of a losing argument with a peony bush.

"Um, sure," Syaoran said, his eyes widening as the peony suddenly burst into confetti. Kamui looked up, unaware he'd had an audience until this point, and narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I would _love_ to go into town for you."

"Thanks _so_ much. I'll go find the car keys. Kamui has something he wanted delivered as well; can you go ask him what it was?"

Syaoran stared out the window.

"He not going to hurt you…" Subaru sighed.

"Are you sure?" Syaoran found this hard to believe as he watched a chipmunk slide down Kamui's claw.

"_Very_," Subaru assured him, "He probably can't even remember your name; AMS is distinct from rage in that it only hurts the ones you love." He paused, watching his twin through the window. "And the occasional woodland critter."

Syaoran shuddered, but headed out the back door anyway.

He found Kamui in the midst of reprising his argument with the peony bush he'd shredded only moments before.

"If you'd just stop letting ants make you their home I wouldn't have to treat you this way," he murmured, stroking one of the large blossoms. "You know daddy loves you, don't you?"

"Um…"

"What?"

"Subaru said you had something you wanted taken to the university…"

"Ah, yes," Kamui said, caressing the flower to his cheek before batting it away with a sharp _slap_. "We'll continue this conversation later, you little tramp," he murmured before stalking toward the opposite side of the garden. He pointed to a patch of multicolored zinnias. "Which of these looks most unhealthy to you?"

"Um," Syaoran squinted at the flowers, not really sure what he was supposed to judge them by. "I suppose…those couple there?"

"You heard him, boys," Kamui said, extracting his claws.

"What are…" Syaoran trailed off as the razor-sharp claws slashed through a group of stems.

"Here you go," Kamui thrust the bouquet at Syaoran, "Drop these by Kotori's office for me. Tell her I never want to see her again."

"But…"

Kamui looked back at the patch. "Now the rest of you bastards had better put a little more effort into _growing_." He growled the last word so harshly Syaoran was almost certain he'd seen the remaining zinnias twitch with fear. He turned back to Syaoran, "That's all."

"Okay then." Syaoran hurried back to the house and slammed the door behind him just as Subaru was coming back down the stairs.

"Everything alright?" Subaru asked, the slight quiver of Syaoran's hands not escaping his notice. "What's he doing out there?"

"He's…" _verbally abusing his garden_ "Fostering competition with a little pep-talk…"

"Ah. Well, they do say plants grow better if you talk to them."

Syaoran doubted this, but bit his tongue and took the keys.

"Those aren't for Kotori, are they?" Subaru asked as Syaoran headed for the garage.

"Um, yes?"

"Oh, for the love of… Just tell her they're an apology for his poorly timed leave of absence and _not_ whatever he told you. I don't need her showing up on the doorstep in a rage again demanding to know why she's been expelled _this_ time."

"How often does this happen?"

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Kurogane woke with a start.

This had the unfortunate effect of introducing his forehead to the underside of the sofa, and he cursed loudly before clamping a hand over his mouth. He ducked his head out to the side, surveying the room.

A pair of unimpressed green eyes stared back. "Are you _quite_ alright?" Subaru demanded, frowning.

"Hmph." Kurogane rolled himself out from under the sofa and looked around. "Where are they?"

"They're outside on the deck," Subaru paused, biting his lip, "Waging war."

"_What_?" Kurogane craned his head to see around Subaru. He was just in time to see a flaming projectile launched across the deck by a home-made trebuchet take the head of a Mr. FreezeTM figurine clean off.

Subaru sighed. "_Every time_…" he muttered, stomping toward the door. "Hey!" he screamed, "I _told_ you; you're going to burn the damned house down! Keep the fire in the lawn!"

"Sorry, Buu-Buu."

Subaru stormed back to the kitchen, where Kurogane was picking through the refrigerator in hopes of finding something edible, preferably alcoholic. "How do you normally deal with – hey, _wait a second_," he paused, looking the ninja up and down, "Weren't you wearing something else a minute ago?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Kurogane said, sheepishly, "It's for, um, camouflage."

"_Camouflage_?" Subaru sputtered, "How the hell did you manage to change clothes between rooms without me seeing? And, oh _good god_, you matched the countertops!"

"That would be the point of camouflage," Kurogane grunted, slamming the refrigerator shut.

"I didn't even know they made clothes in purple and red marble…" Subaru muttered. His nose crawled up in his face in disgust as a thought occurred to him. "Is this _yours_?" he demanded, extracting a claw and picking up the discarded banana hammock lying on the counter with its tip.

"Oh, yeah. Thought I lost that one."

"Look, if you're going to change between rooms, could you at least not leave your…intimate apparel lying around?"

"Sure…" Kurogane was preoccupied watching the ritual sacrifice of a PoppleTM by a legion of G.I. JoesTM through the window. It was disturbingly…_fluffy_. "Well," he said, stuffing the undergarment under his arm, "I think it's time for me to get back to business."

"Could you help me with…" Subaru trailed off.

The ninja was nowhere to be seen.

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

"Um, excuse me. Dr. Yokoshima?" Syaoran knocked nervously, peeking his head around the open office door.

"-And if you think I'm going to roll over and die just so you can keep shoveling this cheesy nonsense down your follower's gullets then I – Syaoran! So good to see you! And I told you, please call me Kanoe."

"Oh, sorry…Kanoe," Syaoran stepped into the office, where he was met with an uncomfortable stare from a white-haired woman seated opposite of Kanoe. He looked away quickly. "I was wondering where to pick up Kamui's paycheck…?"

"Oh, of course, of course. The secretary keeps them locked in her desk – I'll take you down in a minute to get it. But, before that," she motioned to an empty seat next to the white-haired woman, "Won't you join us? This is my sister, Hinoto. I believe I mentioned her the last time we met."

"Oh, I don't want to interrupt you or anything…"

"Nonsense," Kanoe pulled the chair out for him, smiling as he sat down, "We were actually just discussing you."

"You were?"

"Yes," Hinoto answered, eyeing Syaoran closely, "I can certainly sense that sister dearest wasn't _wrong_ about you. For once in her long, _long_ life."

"Oh, shut _up_, my little baby sister. You'll have to excuse her, Syaoran. Little Miss Muffett here is still at the age where she believes in fairytales and doesn't always interact well with adults."

"No more fairytales than the half-assed "Just So" stories you and your scienterrific buddies here come up with. You're _always_ just changing your minds! You find something new and _BOOM_ – everything else goes out the window! Bye-bye Pluto…guess you don't get to be a planet anymore!"

"It's called being flexible, Sister," Kanoe spat, taking a seat behind her desk, "Of course, that's not something you, whose beliefs melt away with the slightest increase in temperature, would understand."

"The Great Gouda doesn't melt!" Hinoto insisted, "She just grows softer and more pliable."

"Oh, sweet Cheesus…"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain!"

"Don't lecture _me_, you over-exalted phone psychic. It's amazing that a Miss CleoTM wannabe like you can hold onto as many followers as you do with the way you continually insult their intelligence."

"_I_ insult their intelli…intelli…smartness! You're the most insulting thing…_ever_! You…you…over educated Betsy WetsyTM with tits for brains!"

"Always right back to the tits," Kanoe snapped, "Typical for someone afraid of her own sexuality."

"I am not afraid! The Great Gouda just wishes that we would wait to be married before we defile our bodies!"

"You've certainly got no problem defiling yours with communion wine."

"It goes very well with the Cheddar Offering!"

Both women stared angrily in silence.

"Um," Syaoran coughed, "Could I just get Kamui's paycheck…?"

"Now look here, you overstuffed mostaccioli," Kanoe continued, ignoring Syaoran completely, "There is no one more insulting than you and your little cult of Kraft worshipping, overripe Stiltonheads."

"Which is why you need the Great Gouda's help now, isn't it?" Hinoto smirked.

"I _don't_ need your help! This will go off without a hitch whether you participate or not. I just prefer your blessing. Because I'm a lovely, caring sister to you."

"And because you can't get it up without my help."

Syaoran eyed the doorway. He wondered if either woman would notice if he made a run for it.

"Get it OUT! _OUT_! Sweet Gouda, your brain really _is_ Swiss cheese if you don't know the difference between 'up' and 'out!'"

"I _did_ say that the communion wine went very well with the Cheddar Offering…and I was really hungry!"

Syaoran sighed and looked longingly at the door. A familiar face smirked at him and motioned for him to come out. He decided to chance it.

Kanoe and Hinoto paused (half an hour later), realizing their guest had disappeared. Hinoto sighed. "Well, I suppose he's gone now, so it doesn't really matter after all."

"Don't be silly," Kanoe smirked as she plucked a fallen hair from the seat Syaoran had occupied. She placed this into a glass vile and sealed it tightly. "This should be everything we need…"

"I hope you know what you're doing this time, Kanoe…"

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

Kotori laughed softly as she dug Kamui's paycheck from the depths of the abandoned desk. "They're always like that," she assured him, "Kanoe's sister is the director of the Theology department _and_ the head priestess at the local Goudist temple. Let's just say they don't always see eye to eye."

"Thank you so much," Syaoran said as she handed him the check, "Oh, that reminds me – I have something for you in the car, from Kamui."

"Oh no…it's not his 'weakling' flowers, is it?"

"Seriously, _how often_ does this happen?"

Kotori smiled. "More than I'd like to admit. You really just have to humor him, most of the time" she paused to make a face, "Just leave them. Kobato should be finishing up at the daycare center and she and I are going for coffee – you should join us!"

Syaoran gratefully accepted and the two made their way across the campus to the sprawling daycare center.

"Kobato!" Kotori called happily.

Kobato waved, but was unable to reply due to the grabby mess of child wrapping itself around her head. She gently pried the flailing arms and legs away from her face and set her charge on the ground, giving her a final pat on the head as she headed toward Kotori and Syaoran.

"I don't know how you do it…" Kotori chuckled as Kobato joined them.

Kobato smiled. "Lots of practice! Besides, I don't know how you put up with your undergraduates, either. I've never heard more whining from a single group in my entire life!"

Kotori laughed louder. "They really _are_ something, aren't they? But I love them. I'm going to be so sad when this semester ends and they're not _mine_ anymore."

"You'll probably have them again, if they make it to med school."

"True…let's just hope they've grown some backbone by then!"

"Alright," Kobato skipped ahead and turned to face the others, "Where are we headed?"

Kotori's face lit up. "Hey!" she exclaimed, "I've got a great idea! We need to celebrate!"

Syaoran was confused. "Celebrate what?"

"We just met the Bechdel quota! Twice!"

"The what?"

"Kobato and I had a conversation, and earlier Kanoe and Hinoto had a conversation…and neither of them was about a man!"

"…and that means…?"

"It means the author finally got off of her ass after eleven chapters and two omakes and wrote dialogue between women! This is a huge breakthrough!"

"Does the author hate women or something?"

"No, it's just that most of the dialogue in this fic comes from strange things her husband says and random snatches of men's conversations she picks up on the train while commuting to work. Truth be told, she's really just lazy and not all that creative…"

"I see…"

"She also enjoys meta."

"I gathered that. So, where are we going to celebrate?"

Kotori smirked. "Why, to Hot Topic, of course!"

"Hot…?"

"Yes!" Kobato clapped her hands, "For cat ears and maid outfits!"

"...why?"

"_Moe_."

Syaoran stared. "You're celebrating meeting a feminist quota with…_moe_?"

"Um, _yeah_."

Syaoran sighed.

"She also likes irony."

"Obviously."

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

"My poor, darling Kotori," Kamui sobbed. "What will she do without me? The world will have grown so _cold_, now that I'm going away."

Fay snorted. "She'll wish she was too dead to care, _if_ indeed she cares at all."

"Seriously," Kamui slammed his glass down onto the table, "I may be half the man I used to be, but even _I _know that the greatest of teachers won't hesitate to leave her there by herself, chained to fate. She needs me."

"Don't you think you're riding a bit too high on your horse there, Kamui?" Subaru asked, rolling his eyes. He'd managed to wrest the majority of the figurine collection from the angsting duo, but not without sustaining several serious injuries to his pride and relinquishing their entire supply of alcohol.

"Buu-Buu, isn't there something you could be doing inside?"

"Alcohol and angst don't mix well. I think I'll stay."

Fay scoffed. "Why can't we _not_ be sober? In pea – SQUIRREL!"

"Yeah," Kamui agreed, slicing the unsuspecting sciurid's head cleanly away from its shoulders with a quick flick of his wrist, "There's nothing else to do. Go on – just don't take any of this," he clutched the vodka bottles protectively, "I don't want you to."

Subaru sighed and stood up from the table. This was getting old. He wondered if they were aware just _how_ ridiculous their dialogue was becoming as he stalked into the kitchen. A nice glass of AB negative would _really_ take the edge off of some of this…

"Oi."

"_Sweet Baby Cheesus_!" Subaru screamed as he spun around, "You have _got_ to stop the 'stealthy ninja' shit around the house!"

"Sorry," Kurogane peered out the window, "What are they doing?"

"Drinking. Ridiculous amounts."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"No, it's most definitely _not_, but it's much better than them blowing up the house, don't you think?"

Kurogane considered this. He supposed it was, but…_what was that in Fay's glass_…? "Are you letting him drink _blood_?" he roared.

"No!" Subaru insisted, "He only _thinks_ it's blood. It's just ClamatoTM."

Kurogane snorted. "He's angsty, not stupid. He _can_ tell the difference, you know."

"I added some beef drippings," Subaru countered, "_And_ with the amount of vodka he keeps mixing in, it would be a miracle if he could taste anything else."

"Beef drippings?"

"Yeah, I opened the packaging and let the juices drip into his cup."

"That is so horribly disgusting that I don't even know what to say to you."

"'Thank you' would be a nice start," Subaru said, filling his own glass, "I've been watching after the two of them all day you…"

The ninja had disappeared once again.

"God _damn_ it."

He wandered back out to the deck.

Kamui cracked the cap from the third bottle. "Ahh…sweet novacaine for the soul."

Fay rattled his empty glass. "Come on, fill me up. Before I sputter out."

Subaru quickly snatched the glass away. "Gimme that. I'll make you another," he huffed, hurrying back inside.

"Take your time," Fay called after him, laying his head on the table. "Actually, hurry up. Choice is yours, but don't be late."

Kamui leaned back into his chair and sipped slowly from his glass. "Oh, sweet O positive, you do get me closer to god…though I have to admit, its flavor is even more delicate if I let it breathe for awhile." He frowned, setting his glass down and swirling its contents gently to aerate.

Fay moaned into the table, the unbearable weight of sobriety sitting heavily upon his shoulders. "Breathing…is the hardest thing to do."

"I know, I know. I've been here before," Kamui sighed, "Sometimes I give myself the creeps."

"That's because you're wallowing in your own chaotic, insecure delusions," Fay assured him.

"Mmm…" Kamui agreed. "It all keeps adding up…I think I'm cracking up."

"You're just paranoid," Subaru insisted, reappearing with a fresh cocktail.

"You're right. I lost my head again. Though, I suppose I can't ask you to cry for me."

Subaru rolled his eyes. His head wasn't the only thing Kamui seemed to have lost recently. "And how about you?" he asked, turning to Fay.

"Mmmph," he swigged his drink, "I feel stupid."

"And he's probably contagious," Kamui decided, "You should go back inside. You don't need to entertain us."

Subaru massaged the bridge of his nose. "And now we're back to this…"

"Sometimes it blows my mind…" Kamui muttered.

"Huh?"

"How we keep getting stuck here all the time."

"Like flies in the Vaseline, we are," Fay mused.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

"What's wrong, Buu-Buu?"

"Could you two knock it off, seriously?" Subaru demanded, knocking his fists against the table.

"Knock what off, Buu-Buu? We're just talking."

"You're not 'just talking,' though," Subaru yanked at his hair. "You're having an _entire_ conversation based off mid-nineties angst rock lyrics. It's driving me insane."

"Buu-Buu…"

"And don't call me Buu-Buu! I don't call you Ui-Ui, do I?"

"But all of the best angst comes from mid-nineties rock, Buu-Buu! All these whiny ass titty babies screech about today is their poor iddle bwoken hearts. Back in the day we had _real_ angst. We _knew_ that emptiness was loneliness, loneliness was cleanliness, cleanliness was godliness, and god was empty. Just like us."

Subaru stared. "Yes, and a ton of good all of that did you. All you've got to show for yourselves is President Palin and an oil spill in the Gulf."

Kamui shrugged. "Apathy is a hell of a drug… Besides, back then we all thought the end was near. People _still_ say we'll see Armageddon soon."

"I certainly hope we will," Fay muttered, swirling his drink around his glass. "I sure could use a vacation from this bullshit, three ring circus sideshow of freaks."

"_Oh for_…do you two have _any_ idea what you sound like?"

"That reminds me," Kamui said cooly, turning toward the far edge of the property. "_Hey! You damn kids! GET OFF MY LAWN_!"

Fay chucked a CloudTM action figure after the scurrying neighbor children.

Subaru buried his face in his hands. "You two need to knock this off before you drive your ninja boyfriend completely insane…"

"Pssht. _Kurogane_…" Fay mumbled, upper lip twitching.

Subaru's eyes grew threateningly wide. "_Don't_ say something you're going to regret," he warned.

Fay chuckled menacingly. "I did it all for the nookie."

"Oh _come ON_."

"The nookie!"

Subaru decided it was time for him to go back inside. _Before_ they told him what he could do with that cookie.

Yeah.

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

Syaoran smiled brightly to himself as he pulled the car into the garage. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed the company or sane, rational people. In truth, he'd begun to consider him a bit of a misanthrope lately, so it was definitely refreshing to be reminded that he was capable of enjoying interactions with others – so long as they weren't crazy, angsting, or overly fond of jean shorts.

Also, _moe_ was, like, the best thing _ever_.

He dragged several over-stuffed shopping bags out of the trunk and headed toward the house. It was quiet. _Almost too quiet_, he thought as he absentmindedly fondled one of the fuzzy cat ears adorning his head. He considered doing an about-face and high-tailing it back to Kotori's apartment. He wasn't below begging to spend the night camped out on her couch. He could even offer to make breakfast in the morning, and clean her toilet if he needed to…

Except that he didn't know where she lived. Sighing, he trudged into the house.

He was more than slightly surprised at the peaceful scene that greeted him. Kurogane sat watching television with Fay sprawled next to and on top of him on the sofa, his casted leg balanced up over one of the arms. Kamui reclined in an over-stuffed armchair, snoring softly and drooling freely with Mokona snuggled into the crook of his arm. No screaming. No weapons. No action figures.

Really, the most disturbing part of the entire scene was Kurogane's jumpsuit, which was for some reason matched to the sofa – right down to the obnoxious purple piping decorating the seams.

"How did you manage this?" Syaoran balked, setting down his bags.

"Shh…" Kurogane hissed, "They're sleeping." He frowned. "Why are you wearing a nurse's uniform?"

"Do you like it?" Syaoran spun around, "Kobato said it really accented my calves…"

"It's…_great_." Kurogane closed his eyes.

"Mokona likes it," the white ball of fluff declared, before falling back asleep.

"Thanks Mokona," Syaoran shuffled the bags across the floor toward his room, "I'll just go put the rest of this away…"

He bumped into Subaru as he opened the door. "You okay?" he asked. The vampire looked dejected as he slipped past Syaoran.

"I can't find Hokuto…" he mumbled, "I wonder where she could be…"

"Maybe she got outside?" Syaoran offered.

"I dunno… Oh, I hate to think of her all alone out there! My poor, sweet, innocent little Hokuto!" he quickly made his way to the staircase. He didn't really want his guests to see him break down.

Kurogane started as he felt Fay twitch in his lap. That felt like…_a laugh_… He looked down at Fay nervously. Fay grinned and lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. Kurogane followed his gaze.

There, hanging from the light fixture was his discarded banana hammock.

Complete with a messily shredded banana.

Kurogane shuddered and looked back down at the wizard. Fay, however, had drifted back to sleep.

**A/N: I feel like I need to apologize for the extreme amount of domestic violence in this chapter…but I would like to point out that no one actually got hurt (well, except a couple of rodents and possibly Hokuto O_o). Just to be clear, I don't advocate threatening your partner, nor do I support anyone acting like a jealous spousal abuser toward their garden. The poor boys aren't really themselves at the moment, but they'll get better :-D**

**Also, here is a short list of songs whose lyrics I stole, er, borrowed for use in this chapter. This is doubtless proof that I am too old for fandom, as all of these came out between my middle and high school years…**

**Whatever, I'll stop when I'm 30.**

The Flys – Novacaine for the Soul

Green Day – Basket Case

Hole – Celebrity Skin

Hole – Violet

Limp Bizkit - Nookie

Live – Selling the Drama

Live – I Alone

Nine Inch Nails – Closer

Nirvana – Smells Like Teen Spirit

Nirvana – Come as You Are

The Offspring – Gone Away

Placebo – Every You Every Me

Smashing Pumpkins – Bullet with Butterfly Wings

Smashing Pumpkins – Zero

Soundgarden – Burden in My Hand

Stone Temple Pilots – Vaseline

Stone Temple Pilots – Creep

Stone Temple Pilots – Interstate Love Song

Stone Sour – Bother

Tool – Sober

Tool – Aenema


	15. Chapter 13

**Quick notes: (Because I just realized I forgot to include this in the last chapters…) Kanoe and Hinoto are from **_**X/1999**_** – they are sisters on opposite sides of the war for the future of the earth and Hinoto is the more spiritually powerful of the two. Kanoe is very jealous, and kind of a Beotch… :-D Kotori is also from **_**X/1999**_** – she was Kamui's childhood friend and a very important person to him… (This becomes fairly important in this chapter…) Fujimoto and Kobato are from **_**Kobato**_**, and Hokuto is Subaru's twin sister from **_**Tokyo Babylon**_** and **_**X/1999**_**. That should cover everyone… Oh! Syaoran is from **_**Cardcaptor Sakura**_** and Fay and Kurogane are the **_**only**_** two new characters from**_** Tsubasa**_**…just in case you were unaware ;-)**

_Chapitre 13: The Reason for the Last Two Chapitres…_

His eyes fluttered open. Bubbles tickled his nose.

_Bubbles_?

A rumble. He was…_hungry_.

His fist moved slowly, impeded by the heavy drag of water surrounding him.

_BAM_!

A crack formed in the glass. Water dripped to the ground below. Two more decisive _whacks_ and he was free of the tank.

_Free_…and _hungry_…

The lights were too bright. Their harsh fluorescence hadn't reached him in captivity and he groaned painfully as he shielded his eyes and staggered forward.

So _hungry_…

He tripped, his previously confined feet weak and unstable. Slowly, carefully, he gathered his uncooperative limbs beneath him once again and stumbled toward the door. One thought; one thought alone dominated his consciousness…

"_CHEEZBURGER_!"

* 1 * 1 * 1 * 1 *

Kurogane frowned as he flexed his fingers against the counter. The right one definitely got used more, but he had to admit that the left one was much prettier by far…

He sighed.

He supposed it didn't really matter, anyway. The left one was mechanical, so it was likely going to have to the right one to have any real effect. He twirled the butcher knife absentmindedly in his hand. He was going to miss the little guy – they had been through much together; countless battles, gods only knew how many forceful oppositions…not to mention those horribly _lonely_ teenage years…

_He really shouldn't be getting this sentimental about a pinky_, he decided at last and gripped the knife firmly by its handle. After all, the blood of the cute and innocent had already been spilt. _The Gods of Angst demanded a sacrifice of Kuro-flesh_…

He lifted the knife into position.

"What are you doing?"

The knife clattered to the counter. "I…" Kurogane looked away from his twitching hand to find Subaru staring, wide-eyed, at him. "I was…I mean…I can't handle the angst anymore," he finally confessed after a long moment of silence.

Subaru rolled his eyes. "If you're going to stab yourself, wouldn't it be more efficient to aim for a vital organ?" He shuffled to the refrigerator and fished out a bag.

"I wasn't going to stab myself; just hack off my least useful finger."

Subaru spun around with a quizzical look. "And that's going to help…_how_, exactly?"

"It just will," Kurogane was very certain of this, sort of. "It's always seemed to help before…"

Subaru lifted an eyebrow and jabbed a curly straw through the bag in his hands. "Sounds like a superstition to me," he snorted as he began slurping down the contents.

"Hmph."

"You're just going to make a mess of my kitchen," Subaru huffed, pointedly taking the blade away from the ninja, "Besides which, you've spent the last week and a half hiding like a scared child, so why start bloodying yourself up now?"

Kurogane had to admit the vampire had a point, there. _Still_… "Isn't there any way to make this go faster?"

Subaru shrugged. "I think the only reason it's gone on _this_ long is because the two of them are both wallowing in Tier Three and feeding off one another. Once of them breaks out of _that_, it should all be downhill."

"Tier Three?"

Subaru shook his bag – B negative always needed an extra jolt to really get the red cells mixed back into the plasma properly, he noted with a hint of distain – and looked back to Kurogane. "Yes, Tier Three. O_h, sorry_," he said after a moment, "Inside joke. There are seven tiers of a Kamui angst fit. They're really _stages_, but _tiers_ works so much better for acronymical purposes… He," he nodded to Fay – currently passed out on the living room floor – "Got Kamui's blood, so his are probably similar…"

Kurogane glared expectantly.

"The first tier is Shock and Awe. Kamui is always _very_ careful to let everyone know that he's about to turn into a complete bitch and usually pulls something involving either gratuitous violence or nudity to alert us – very often _both_…" Subaru's eyes drifted toward his brother's form, which hung sloppily over an arm of the sofa, but was thankfully clothed. "Next comes Anger and Barely Coherent Threats – which you seem to be well acquainted with – followed by Pain and Suffering." He set his bag down on the counter and shook his head. "This is where they seem to be stuck…"

Kurogane shuddered. "How do we get them out of it?"

Subaru shrugged again. "Usually, once he finds his damned action figure collection he works his way through it by decapitating the prettiest ones…" his eyes traveled to a scorch mark on the carpet, "But I've had to take all of _those_ away, this time."

Kurogane growled, "Well, what comes after that, then?"

Subaru smiled wickedly. "Next comes the Whining and Annoying Need for Gratuitous Sympathy Tier," he continued, "Or, W.A.N.G.S.T. They seem to be easing into this tier quite nicely, so it's probably just a matter of time…" He paused to take in the nervous expression contorting Kurogane's face. "But don't worry," he said teasingly, "After that comes the Upward Swing in Libido. That's always the most fun…"

"Hmph," Kurogane crossed his arms, "Not if it's followed by more whining and pain."

"No, it's followed by the Fake Laughter and Annoying Need for Gratuitous Smooching Tier; F.L.A.N.G.S.T."

"_Lovely_."

Subaru chuckled darkly. "Don't worry; it usually doesn't take long to get from there into the Regret and Overwrought Apologies Tier. That's the last one."

Kurogane rolled his eyes and stared back toward his fingers. _Yes, he could definitely do without the right one…_

A loud whine from the living room turned both men's heads. Fay hugged his knees to his chest and sobbed loudly.

"See?" Subaru said, smirking triumphantly, "Already into Tier Four!"

"_Or_, he's just realized that they spent the entire night drinking and arguing about cartoons and feels shame like any normal person would."

"Nah," Subaru countered, "I highly doubt that – they've been doing the same thing for the past three nights, now." He set his empty bag gently into the trash and shook his head. "Black Butler _again_?"

Kurogane nodded.

"Had to be. I heard them arguing until 3am about whether _he_ would look better in a sailor suit or ass-less chaps."

Kurogane snorted. "Fucking Sebastian…"

Subaru chuckled. "Indeed. Though, the rips in the carpet really bring this to a whole new level, don't you think?"

"No, those happened after the idiot accused your brother of sparkling."

"He did…_wha_…? He should _know_ better!"

"Yeah, he sho-" Kurogane stopped abruptly as he saw Subaru lift his foot over a large, black mess. "Watch your feet!" he shouted instead.

Subaru looked down and recoiled in horror. He bent slowly to pick up a large wad of black fur, which he stared, horrified, at. "Ho…Ho…"

"You okay?"

Another loud _bang_ from the living room. Against their better judgment, both men turned toward the noise.

"Kamui…" Subaru groaned.

"What the _hell_ is he doing to the banister?"

Subaru dropped the black ball of fur. "Looks like he's given Tier Four a complete miss…"

Kurogane stared as Subaru picked up his twin and headed toward the staircase.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," Subaru called as he disappeared onto the second story landing, "In the meanwhile, would you mind calling in sick for me?"

* 2 * 2 * 2 * 2 *

"_Work_!"

Syaoran sashayed.

"_Cover Girl_!"

Fujimoto shantéed.

Kotori and Kobato collapsed into a fit of giggles against the computer desk as the boys' heels clicked noisily down the runway.

"Fuj!" Kotori shouted, waving her arms wildly, "Loosen up – he's kicking your ass!"

Fujimoto grinned and relaxed his steps. His hips swung wildly from side to side.

"Nooo!" Kobato squealed, wiping the tears from her eyes, "That's just kicking up the activity in your minor glutes! Balance more _naturally_!"

Syaoran reached the end of the runway and paused to blow a sultry kiss. He swiveled his hips lasciviously before peeling the precariously soled daggers from his feet.

Like all good graduate students, Fujimoto and Kotori had taken their advisor's leave of absence _terribly_ and had acted with all due professional decorum. Classes had been cancelled. Students had been excused from the program. Papers had been put on hold indefinitely.

And six different muscles from each boy had been plugged into a radio transmitting device to determine which of them could walk down a ten foot runway in six inch stilettos with less effort.

The transmitted electric signals danced across the computer screen – Fujimoto's clearly the larger – as RuPaul blared from the small speakers. They would have to wait until the final analysis to _really_ determine the winner, but it seemed clear that Syaoran was infinitely better at manipulating his stance to save on muscular effort.

"I don't get it," Fujimoto chuckled, kicking off his shoes as he joined Syaoran at the end of the runway, "Isn't the _point_ of wearing these abominations to force you to squeeze your thighs and ass while you're walking to make them look hot?"

Kotori saved the file quickly and turned off the video camera. "Probably," she laughed, "But Gouda only knows that men like it when we make it look effortless…" This week had been _far_ too much fun…she seriously doubted whether she would be able to go back to her assigned research at _all_…

"This is true…" Fujimoto swept Kobato up by the waist and pressed their lips together playfully, "But you never told me how badly they hurt your feet!"

"That's because…" Kobato trailed off as a loud siren pierced the air.

"What the…?" Fujimoto grumbled, "_Really_?"

Kotori and Fujimoto exchanged dubious glances. The fire alarms _always_ went off during final exam week… Kotori sniffed at the air.

"Damn," she exhaled after a moment, "I think I actually _do_ smell smoke this time."

The foursome made their way out of the locomotion laboratory. The hall was packed with exasperated workers shuffling toward the nearest exit. The metallic tang of electrical fire was more prevalent in the corridor, and Kotori's face fell as they pushed their way into the slowly flowing stream of people.

"Wow," Fujimoto breathed, "After five years here, we finally see a real fire…"

"Yeah…" Kotori murmured, suddenly doing an about-face and grabbing her companions by the arms, "I don't like this," she said forcefully, "At _all_. Let's go out the back way." She pulled them against the flow of foot traffic and back into the laboratory they had come from.

Syaoran was too preoccupied to notice being led backwards. He was positive – _positive_ – that he had just seen himself dart around a corner in the hallway, grinning like a madman.

He wondered if that might have been his double in the world.

And, if was indeed the case, why was he shouting "_MOAR BURNINATION_!"

* 3 * 3 * 3 * 3 *

Hinoto flung the door open angrily. "You know, sister dearest, this happens every single time you try one of your little experiments. It amazes me that you still have a job."

Kanoe huffed and quickened her pace. "_Tenure_," she spat, smiling at her sister, "Learn to love it," she stopped to peer around the corner of an empty corridor, "Come on," she insisted, grasping Hinoto's hand and pulling her along, "We have to find it before it does something silly."

"_Silly_?" Hinoto almost laughed, "I think what you mean to say is, 'we have to find it before it _kills_ someone!' Just like the last one…and the one before _that_! And the one bef-" She was cut off by a hand clamping over her mouth.

Kanoe glared angrily. "No one died, officially."

Hinoto snorted into her sister's palm and pulled away. "You don't have the funds to pay off the coroner, this time."

Kanoe continued to glare. Her sister had an annoying habit of being right about these things…

"There," Hinoto said after a long moment. She pointed down the hallway. "It's about 15 feet away, hiding behind those pillars."

"You're right," Kanoe inhaled and quieted her steps, "On the count of three… One. Two. Thr-"

A loud cry broke the air as it saw the two women racing toward it.

"_DO NOT WANT_!"

* 4 * 4 * 4 * 4 *

Syaoran was thankful for the airbag that had suddenly deployed as he flailed into the wall. He had been in the process of being dragged forcefully through dimly-lit back corridors of the hospital and had rounded that last corner just a _bit_ too enthusiastically…

He blinked. He didn't know walls had airbags. Especially not such, pert, _firm_ airbags…

He blinked again and dropped his hands to his sides. "Dr. Yok…I mean, Kanoe! What are you…what's in the bag?"

Kanoe grinned maniacally and passed a very…_active_ burlap sack to her sister. "_Ahaha_," she ran a hand through her hair, flipping the ends flirtatiously over her shoulder, "Why, _nothing_, of course!"

Fujimoto was not convinced and frowned at her, "Why is it moving, then?"

Hinoto flushed red. "It's…it's a lab dog. Very hard to control. Broke free of its muzzle. This, this is the only safe way to get it back!"

"_CHEEZBURGER_!"

Fujimoto balked. "I think it wants a cheeseburger."

"_WANT_! _WANT_!"

"Very much, apparently."

"_CAN HAZ_!"

"Cheesus on a cracker…" Kanoe muttered, shaking her head, "You four had better come with us."

* 5 * 5 * 5 * 5 *

Subaru landed on the sofa with an exhausted _thud_ and wrinkled his nose at the television. "What is _this_?"

"Leave it on."

"But it's so…"

"Leave it on."

"80's…" Subaru finished, rolling on to his stomach. Kurogane was sprawled out on the floor with a sobbing Fay curled into his chest, staring down reruns of Fist of the North Star. He looked…less than happy about the arrangement, but Subaru couldn't help but notice with a small grin that the ninja's hand occasionally fluttered through the wizard's hair in a comforting manner. "Is he doing better?"

Kurogane scoffed as another dry heave wracked Fay's body. "Well, he hasn't tried to kill anything or maim anyone in the past hour or so, so I guess you can call that '_better_.' Where's the other one?"

"Sleeping…" Subaru murmured, dreamily, "He'll be out for a while."

"How'd you manage that?"

Subaru rolled off the couch and leaned to whisper into Kurogane's ear. He pressed a small bottle into the ninja's hand.

Kurogane stared, eyes wide and nose traveling at alarming speed up his face. "That…_works_?"

"Mmmhmm," Subaru draped himself back over the sofa, "I need a nap, too."

* 6 * 6 * 6 * 6 *

"What do we call…_him_?"

"Doesn't matter, he doesn't have a name yet."

"How about 'Mini Me?'"

"That's a stupid name; besides, he's one sixth your size, not one eighth."

"Oh." Syaoran wasn't entirely sure _why_ that should matter as he watched his miniature clone amble about the laboratory, stopping to taste random metal objects and hiss venomously at the rats in cages lining the walls.

"How about Chibi-Syao?" Hinoto offered.

"Chibi-ran," Kotori insisted, stooping to pat the clone on the head. He sniffed at her fingers.

"I like Clone-ran," Fujimoto huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "Makes you remember what he _is_."

"Don't be such a spoil-sport," Kanoe spat back at him, "He's far too big of an investment to give such a thoughtless name to. He needs something…majestic. Something that evokes images of mighty dragons."

"How about Syaoron?"

"Good _Gouda_ you people are uncreative."

"You like Chibi-ran, don't you, boy?" Kotori ruffled the clone's hair, "Yes you do! You do, you do! _OW_!" she yanked her hand back, "Fucker bit me!"

Chibi-clone-ron licked his lips. His pupils dilated.

"_CHEEZBURGER_!"

"Sweet Baby Cheesus!" Hinoto screamed, trying to restrain the flailing mass of arms and legs the miniature clone had become as he gnashed his teeth hungrily and dove toward Kotori. She managed to restrain him somewhat, but not before he had taken a sizable gash out of the girl's arm.

"Let me see that," Fujimoto grabbed the bleeding arm, "Oh for _fu_…we've got to get her over to the hospital." He shot Kanoe a withering glare as he and Kobato led Kotori out the door. "Lock it up. We _don't_ need another Satsuki."

"Of course," Kanoe smiled.

Syaoran watched, dumbfounded, as his friends exited the lab and Hinoto fought to restrain his struggling mini-clone. _What the hell had just happened here?_

"Put him into the dog cage," Kanoe instructed. Hinoto obliged her sister, dragging the kicking and screaming clone into a corner holding-cell.

Chibi-clone-ron threw himself at the bars, gnashing his teeth and hissing.

Syaoran stared. "Why is he such a bastard?"

"He doesn't have a soul," Kanoe shrugged absently and tossed a dried biscuit to the clone.

It sniffed at this offering and tossed it back at her. "_CHEEZBURGER_!"

Syaoran sighed. _Superb_. Another blood-thirsty, soulless clone…

"But we can change that."

He hadn't noticed how close the two women had moved. He also hadn't noticed the slightly crazed way that Kanoe's eyes seemed to flicker under the fluorescent bulbs.

He _definitely_ hadn't noticed the large chainsaw in Hinoto's hand.

"I, uh…"

"Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit," Hinoto assured him, revving the motor of the saw.

* 7 * 7 * 7 * 7 *

Subaru awoke to the sound of sirens and bolted upright, terrified of what his brother must have done this time.

The inside of the house was…peaceful. Well, mostly peaceful. Apart from the rather disturbing way the wizard was…_gyrating_ against the ninja's leg, cast bumping loudly against the wooden floor.

"How long are you going to let him do that?" Subaru demanded, not liking the scuff marks appearing on his immaculately polished parquet.

Kurogane shrugged. "As long as it takes."

Subaru smacked his forehead and rubbed his temples. The sirens were growing louder, and he was almost certain he could see red lights beginning to dance through the front windows. Something dawned on him. "Where's Syaoran?"

"University," Kurogane said simply, "Can't blame the kid for not wanting to be here."

"What time is it?"

Kurogane shrugged and continued to stare at the television.

Subaru sighed and crept to the microwave to look at the clock. "It's one AM!" he shouted, running to look out the window. Those were definitely cop cars pulling into his driveway. "What the hell is going on?"

The sirens died down as the squad cars parked and began to unload. Subaru threw the front door open just in time to see a shocked-looking Syaoran emerge from the back seat of one with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A sympathetic officer led him slowly to the door.

"Mr…?"

"Subaru is fine."

"Mr. Subaru," the officer continued as Syaoran shuffled wordlessly past him into the house, "Might we have a word? Your young friend has had quite a shock today."

"Yeah…" Subaru trailed off, watching Syaoran slink slowly into the living room and collapse in a heap on the sofa, "What…?"

"This concerns your brother's laboratory, as well," she continued, "Is he available?"

"No," Subaru said quickly, "He's…he's very ill at the moment."

The officer sighed. "Very well, it might be best if we discussed this out here."

Subaru sighed and followed her outside.

"Oi," Kurogane growled, watching Syaoran nervously, "What happened?"

Syaoran stared blankly.

"_Oi_!" Kurogane pressed on, "Kid?"

Syaoran sighed and closed his eyes. After everything he had witnessed today, he certainly didn't need to take in the sight of Fay…_gyrating_ like that.

Subaru reemerged into the silence some twenty minutes later. He looked in at the sullen stand-off taking place in the living room, spun on his heel, and trudged into the kitchen. He reappeared moments later with a large glass of whiskey which he pressed into Syaoran's hands. "Drink," he ordered.

Syaoran silently obeyed.

Subaru turned back to Kurogane, "Seriously, how long are you going to let him _do_ that? Look what it's doing to my flooring!"

"Look, what do you want me to do about it? If I move, he might flip out again!"

"Do you _not_ still have the bottle I gave you before?"

Kurogane shifted warily. "…Yeah…"

"Then for fuck's sake, just go _do it_ already."

Kurogane sighed heavily, but pushed himself to his feet and flung the wizard over his shoulder. "Whatever you say…" He stormed off toward their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Subaru settled next to Syaoran on the couch and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry…"

"S'not your fault."

"The cop said no one was fatally injured and both of those…_ladies_…are headed for prison."

Syaoran nodded.

"They did want to know why it looked like the lab was hacked to pieces with a sword when they couldn't find one after the fact…"

"S'in my arm."

"Oh. That's a good place for it, I suppose…"

Syaoran winced as a loud _bang_ reverberated through the house. Subaru rubbed the boy's back.

"They're clearing out their laboratory tonight," he continued slowly, "Look, we know how Kanoe is…is there…anything…_disturbing_ that they're going to find in there?"

"Clone."

"Shit."

"Sorry."

"You really have a hell of a time with clones, don't you?" he sighed, "We _did_ tell you not to give her your bodily fluids…"

"I didn't!"

_BANG!_

"What _was_ that?" Syaoran asked, looking around fearfully.

Subaru massaged the bridge of his nose. "You're probably better off _not_ knowing. Anyway, why don't you get some sleep? I'm sure more officers are going to be stopping by tomorrow to talk to you…"

"Yeah." Syaoran staggered to his feet and trudged slowly toward his bedroom. "Hey," paused, looking at his feet, "What is this?"

"Hmm?" Subaru leaned over the boy's shoulder. "It looks like…"

"A bloody paw-print?"

Subaru stiffened. "Ho…Ho…_HOKUTO_!" He fell backwards onto the ground, pulling Syaoran's blanket with him.

"Subaru?" Syaoran shook the vampire. "_Subaru_?"

No response.

Syaoran sighed and lifted his catatonic host as best he could onto the sofa and covered him with the blanket.

_BANG!_

He seriously doubted that he would be able to sleep tonight, anyway.

* 8 * 8 * 8 * 8 *

A lone flashlight shined into the stark blackness and glanced off metal bars.

"What is _that_?"

"Oh my Gouda, it's _adorable_!"

"Why is it in a cage? Hurry up and let it out!"

"Hold on, hold on, let's at least find the lights…"

"Oh _shit_."

"What's wrong?"

"I…let it out, and now I can't find it…"

"Why would you even _do_ that?"

"I'm sor-_OW_!"

"What now?"

"Fucker bit me!"

* 9 * 9 * 9 * 9 *

Chibi-clone-ron babbled softly to himself as he wandered through the dark hallways of the university. Died, died, died…all of the lights were died. He didn't like the darkness.

His tummy rumbled.

He liked being hungry even less.

_CHEEZBURGER_.

He sniffed the air. _Over that way…_

He headed toward the smell, pausing only to inspect a large blue pail.

"BUKKIT," he said proudly, tipping the pail onto his head and pulling its handle under his nose like a strap, "_MAH_ BUKKIT." He giggled loudly.

The Cheezburger was too far away. It would take forever to get to it on foot; he needed a faster means of transportation. Luckily, while he _was_ soulless, Chibi-clone-ron was _not_ also brainless (the LOL-speak was largely a product of Kanoe's demented sense of humor and indicated nothing at _all_ about his mental capacity…_or_ the author's propensity for wasting hours and hours online looking at cat pictures…) and managed to hotwire a perfect, one-sixth-of-its-original-clone-sized car.

The two large prongs sticking out the front end made it slightly more difficult to maneuver than he had planned, but it would carry him to the Cheezburger in no time.

He could already see red hair shining in the distance…

* 10 * 10 * 10 * 10 *

A warm, rough tongue darted back and forth across his nose, leaving a cool trail of saliva in its wake. It dipped down, smearing itself across his cheek before stopping to lave generously at his ear.

"_Kamui_…" Subaru whined, forcing his eyes open, "Knock it…Hokuto!" He sat bolt upright in surprise, hugging his precious kitty to his chest. "Oh my sweet girl! Where have you _been_?"

Syaoran smiled at him from across the room. "I found her limping around the garage last night. She had a cut on her foot and was hiding. I hope you don't mind, I bandaged it up by myself, but I'm sure you can probably do better."

"My baby…" Subaru snuggled his face into her soft, black fur, "Thank you so much, Syaoran."

A door closed in the hallway and Kurogane sauntered out into the living room. The swagger in his step seemed terribly mismatched to the obnoxiously large bald-spot on the side of his head.

"Kurogane…" Syaoran started, "What…um, what happened to your hair?"

Kurogane patted the side of his head and frowned. "It must have gotten pulled…"

Subaru laughed. "You must have had one hell of a time getting that Nytol into him…"

"Nytol?"

"Yeah – the Nytol I gave you…" Subaru wrinkled his brow, "You _did_ give it to him, didn't you?"

"I…"

"What the hell did you do to him if you didn't give him the sleeping pills?"

"I _gave it to him_ – just like you said!"

"But, you just…_OH FOR FU_…He's my _brother_! Why would you even _THINK_ I would give you that kind of advice when you know damn well I was talking about how effective it is on _Kamui_?"

Kurogane shrugged and dragged a hand through his hair, wincing as it grazed over the bald-spot. "I don't know! You've always seemed…kinda…"

"Twincesty," Syaoran finished for him.

"_What_?"

"Actually, I agree," a third voice chimed in. Three startled heads turned to see Fay wheeling himself into the living room. "You've always put a new spin on 'Brotherly Love.'"

"You people are sick," Subaru shoved his hands in his pockets, "Okay, _fine_, so maybe we _are_ kind of twincesty…"

Kurogane ignored this and gaped at the wizard. "Are you…" he mentally crossed his fingers, "Sane…?"

Fay grinned back. "I'm always _sane_, Kuro-sama. It's just the angst that gets me down from time to time…"

"But how…" Kurogane quickly scanned his fingers and toes. No new additions to the casualty list seemed apparent…

Fay held up a handful of spiky black hair. "Um, I seem to have gotten a little rough with you – and I'm sorry," he frowned apologetically, "Can I make you breakfast?"

"But the cat…"

"Yeah," Syaoran chimed in, "Something's not right…the cat's alive and all you did is rip out some hair…"

Fay looked at his lap. "The garden is much prettier without chipmunks digging it up, isn't it?"

Subaru growled, "_Cheesus_…you, too?"

"I wouldn't look behind the tool shed."

"_Ew_."

Syaoran pressed on, "And the hair?"

"I think I may have taken some skin along with it…"

"I don't even want to know…"

"No, you probably don't. _Anyway_…" Fay rubbed his hands together, "All's well that ends well, right?"

Kurogane and Syaoran stared at him.

"_Right_?"

Subaru smacked his face and shook his head.

The telephone rang.

"One second," Subaru darted across the room to grab the handset, but it fell silent just as he reached it. "Hmm…"

"_Anyway_," Fay continued, undeterred, "Breakfast?"

Kurogane sighed, but moved to push the wizard into the kitchen. _At least he would get some decent food out of this mess…_

"Kamui!"

The three travelers stopped in their tracks to look at the second story landing. Fay frowned. Syaoran shuddered. Kurogane rolled his eyes.

Subaru leapt to join his brother on the landing. "Put your damned claws away!" he shouted, batting at his brother's hands, "Do you have _any_ idea what you're doing to the woodwork?"

Kamui knocked his brother to the side (_gently_, but not too gently, because that would be _twincesty_ and he was more interested in making a harsh impression at the moment). "She's dead," he said simply.

Subaru rubbed his head where it had collided with the banister, "Who, Kanoe? That was quick; they usually go to trial first…"

Kamui sneered at his twin, "Kotori, you _ass_! She was killed by a Chibi-Syao Clone driving a forklift."

"Actually, I think its name was Chibi-ran."

"No, it was Clone-ran."

"That's a stupid name; why didn't you just call it Mini Me?"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Kamui's scream was impressive enough on its own; the simultaneous shattering of every glass object and window in the house was really just icing on the cake. "Every goddamned world! _Every world,_ Buu-Buu!" He collapsed onto his brother's shoulder.

"Shh…" Subaru soothed, stroking Kamui's hair, "We've been over this. She _always_ dies. She's not a real character – she's just a plot device to get you pissed off."

"But you _promised_ me!" Kamui sobbed, "You promised me that this world would be _different_! You said CLAMP couldn't get their sadist hands on her here!"

"I know, I know…" Subaru sighed. He'd really thought she'd been safe this time; thought maybe his brother might be able to go a decent length of time without Kotori dying horribly in front of his eyes… He really should have known better. "Hey," he lifted Kamui's chin, "At least this time Fuuma didn't kill her, right?"

Kamui sniffled. "Yeah…"

"Let's go have some breakfast."

"Okay…"

"Hey – where did everybody go?"

* 11 * 11 * 11 * 11 *

"I hate vampires, I hate clones, and I hate _you, you stupid manjuu_!" Kurogane roared as he shook the sand out of his underwear.

"Hey, Kuro-pon!" Fay whined, "That's not a very nice thing to say! To any of us!"

"Tch," Kurogane grunted, speeding up to walk ahead of the others. He turned back to face them. "You know what's not very nice? Dropping a pot rack on my head, spending a week making thinly veiled threats to my…_equipment_, drinking yourself stupid every night, arguing so loudly about what kind of cosplay the sexy cartoon butler would look best in that I get no sleep, and then _ripping my hair out_!" His face softened, "But you might notice, that despite all of that, I'm _still_ standing here. _Don't_ tell me I don't deserve to have a bitch moment."

Fay smiled and linked their arms as Mokona jumped up on his shoulder. "Kuro-sama _loooooves_ me."

"Tch…" Pink colored the ninja's cheeks.

"And Mokona would never let him disappear!" the ball of fluff chirped, "I'd suck him up no matter where he tried to hide!"

"Come on over here and say that," Kurogane threatened, reaching for Mokona and missing.

"Oh, stop it, you two," Fay warned as Mokona bounced away, Kurogane slashing wildly at the air behind it. "We still have to figure out where we are!" _And how to move this damn-blasted chair through the sea of sand dunes…_

"I know where we are…" Syaoran breathed, "This is…_Clow_!"

**End note: And thus end Days of Our Wings. Hopefully you enjoyed it (well, I really hope you wouldn't read this far if you didn't – that's a worse use of your precious time than writing fan fic!), as I had a really great time writing it. I'm thinking there will be one more Omake for this series (Touya/Yukito fluff…yes please!) and very probably a second series – I've got a few ideas I'm batting around for story arcs and I was **_**just**_** introduced to **_**Duklyon**_** (one of CLAMPS lesser-known mangas, but seriously one of the funniest I have **_**ever**_** read) and I'm dying for a way to work those characters in, as well. That, and writing ridiculous crack is one of the few joys in my otherwise over-scheduled and tedious life. We shall see… :-D**


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